


Baggins of The Shire

by Fangirlyra



Series: King!Bilbo AU [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, King!Bilbo, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlyra/pseuds/Fangirlyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Shire - unlike any kingdom in Middle earth - didn’t have a King, instead they have a Baggins.  This is a story of how a the Baggins of the Shire had an adventure and gained something more than a treasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mister Baggins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyRedFeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRedFeather/gifts).



> Written as a fill to LadyRedFeather's [prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3138.html?thread=4048706#t4048706) on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/)
> 
> Beta-ed by [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com/).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a beta now!
> 
> Three cheers for the wonderful [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com/)!

The Shire - unlike any other kingdom in Middle earth - didn’t have a King: instead they had a Baggins.  From the day King Argeleb II gave them a land to settle until after the fall of Arnor, a Baggins had ruled them, though nowadays it was not so much ruling as it was dealing with pesky bigger people that wanted something from the Shirefolk. They were very respectable of course, not only because they were royalty, but also because they were the epitome of hobbitness: they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected. If the occasion arose that needed some adventuring, the Baggins would send a Took lad or lass to do it because they actually _wanted_ to go off on an adventure.  
  
That’s why when a certain Grey Wizard wanted to find someone to share in an adventure he went to the current Baggins, Bilbo Baggins who resided in Bag End. Bilbo recognized the Wizard at sight for every Baggins had been showed a picture of the wizard who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the blue for mad adventures and taught one thing from young age: _Gandalf meant trouble_.  
  
“Good morning!” said  Bilbo and he meant it. It was a rather fine morning and trouble or not one should be polite to a wizard.  
  
"What do you mean?" Gandalf replied. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is morning to be good on?"  
  
Well one _should_ be polite to a wizard but that didn’t mean the _wizard_ would be polite.  
  
"All of them at once," answered Bilbo, "and a very fine morning for a pipe of tobacco out of doors, but that’s not what you came here for I suppose.  Can I help you?”  
  
“That remains to be seen,” said Gandalf, “I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure.”  
  
Bilbo knew it, _trouble._  
  
“An adventure huh?  It’s difficult to find anyone that is willing in these parts, with Sigismond Took finally settled down and married that sweet Brownlock lass. You might try looking at The Yale in Eastfarthing, maybe one of the many children of Isembold Took will be interested. Good morning!” By this he meant that the conversation was at an end.  
  
“To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I was selling buttons at the door! Well, that's decided! I will send you on this adventure. Very amusing for me, very good for you and profitable too, very likely, if you ever get over it."  
  
Bilbo cursed internally, it seemed that he had insulted the wizard unintentionally. He had to fix it, and he need to do it _now._  
  
“Sorry... I don't want any adventures, thank you.  But please come to tea... tomorrow! We could discuss the matter further!”  
  
“Fine. Tomorrow then, I’ll tell the others,” said Gandalf.  
  
“Inform the who? What? No...no....”  
  
But Gandalf had already turned to go. Bilbo shook his head and scuttled inside his round green door. He put Gandalf’s name on his Engagement Tablet under ‘Wednesday’.  
  
He wondered what Gandalf meant by ‘the others’. Well, Bilbo thought, he just restocked his pantry so if Gandalf brought one or two company he would still be able to hold a decent tea. Wizards after all are wizards.  
  
Now, you could imagine Bilbo’s surprise when not one or two but twelve dwarves came barging to Bag End on Wednesday afternoon. And what rude bunch they were! Trailing mud in the carpet, pillaging the pantry, and Bilbo didn’t want to think about the bathroom.  If this how they acted in a royal smial, Bilbo shuddered to think how they might act in a common Shirefolk hole.  
  
When Bilbo thought everything couldn’t be worse, the dwarves started throwing the cutlery around while singing a rowdy song. The finest dining ware in the Shire! Thrown around like a rubber ball! His father would roll in his respectable grave! Bilbo sagged in relief when he saw all the plates and bowls stacked neatly on the table, cleaned and unharmed.  
  
Then came the leader of the company, Thorin Oakenshield. Bilbo had expected some manners from the exiled King but no, he was just as rude as the others. Sneering about fighting and weapons, and calling him a burglar and a grocer! The Hobbits had not needed to use armed force since the early days and diplomacy was just as important, if not more so! Bilbo wanted to see how Thorin fared if he had to stop a sniping remark contest between the Tooks and the Sackville-Bagginses!  
  
And of course there was the mess with the discussion about the dragon and the contract. And that dwarf...what was his name? Bimbur? Bofir? He kept trying to rile Bilbo up with his comments. Bilbo’s anger started to override his Baggins’ sensibility and he was almost to the point of declaring the dwarves as enemies to hobbitfolk when Gandalf pulled him aside.  
  
“Calm down Mister Baggins, they mean no harm.”  
  
“I'll be alright, just let me sit quietly for a moment,” Bilbo gritted his teeth.  
  
“They are just excited to go reclaim their home. Tell me, is there anything more important to you than the Shire?”  
  
Bilbo didn’t answer.  
  
“I remember a young hobbit who would've liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the border of the Shire,” remarked Gandalf.  
  
Bilbo felt his anger recede and gave Gandalf a small smile.  
  
“The world is not in your books and maps. It’s out there, Bilbo, don’t you want to see it?” asked Gandalf.  
  
“I can't just go running off into the blue! I’m the Baggins of the Shire!”  
  
“You are also a Took.”  
  
“Even if I want to go, I have things to take care of before I could go. I should at least inform the thains!”  
  
“I have taken certain liberties and sent word to the thains requesting their audience tomorrow for second breakfast,” uttered Gandalf without a trace of guilt.  
  
“You _what?_ ”  
  
“Well it’s entirely your choice on what you are going to tell them. Besides, you'll have a tale or two to tell of your own, when you come back.”  
  
“Can you promise that I will come back?”  
  
“No. And if you do, you will not be the same.”  
  
“That's what I thought. Sorry Gandalf, I can't sign this. You've got the wrong hobbit.”  
  
At that Bilbo put down the contract and got up, thirteen pairs of eyes following him. Bilbo had assigned rooms for them all; luckily Bag End was built to accommodate ‘foreign’ guests but thirteen was a stretch and most of the dwarves had to share a room with another. Bilbo went to his own little bed very tired and not altogether happy. As he lay in bed he could hear the dwarves still gathered in front of the fireplace and singing.  
  
 _Far over the Misty Mountains cold._  
 _To dungeons deep and caverns old._  
 _We must away ere break of day._  
 _To find our long forgotten gold..._  
  
As they sang, the Hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and hold a sword instead of a walking-stick.  
  
He looked out of the window. The stars were out in a dark sky above the trees. He thought of the jewels of the dwarves shining in dark caverns. Suddenly in the wood beyond The Water a flame leapt up - probably somebody lighting a wood-fire - and he thought of plundering dragons settling on his quiet Hill and kindling it all to flames.  
  
The next morning, up jumped Bilbo and after putting on his dressing-gown he went into the dining room.  There he saw no one, but a folded note and the contract rested on the table.  
  
 _Bilbo,_  
  
 _Thinking it unnecessary to disturb your morning meeting, I have taken the company away for breakfast and to make requisite preparations. We shall await you at the Green Dragon Inn, Bywater, at II a.m. sharp. Trusting that you will be punctual._  
  
 _Gandalf_  
  
Bilbo sighed; he hadn’t quite made his mind and yet Gandalf seemed sure he would come. Anyway the thains would be arriving soon. So he put on an apron, lit fires, boiled water, and washed up. Then he had a nice little breakfast in the kitchen before preparing second breakfast for five hobbits.  
  
At 9.30 a.m. sharp there were four rings on his doorbell. Bilbo looked at himself in the mirror checking out his outfit: silk shirt and trousers, embroidered waistcoat with brass buttons, and a long purple coat; proper enough for a Baggins.  Ah! He almost forgot his crown! Bilbo took the small wooden crown down from his mantelpiece, put it on his curls, and hurried to open the door.  
  
Last night he didn’t wear his crown because he was only expecting Gandalf. The point of wearing a crown was to remind the other party that he is more important than them, and he really didn’t want to insinuate that he thought _he_ was more important than a wizard.  
  
When he opened the door, there stood four important-looking hobbits. Bilbo smiled and greeted them in hobbit’s custom, from the oldest to the youngest.  
  
“Good day to you, Uncle Longo! How is your family?” greeted Bilbo to Longo Sackville-Baggins, Thain of Northfarthing.  
  
Bilbo called him uncle because he _was_ his uncle, his grandfather’s second born son. After Bilbo was born and he was no longer in line for the throne, he went and married Camelia Sackville, the heiress of Sackville family who held the Thainship of Northfarthing, took their family name and became the Thain. The Sackvilles were more than happy for the chance to add a hyphenated ‘Baggins’ to their family name.  
  
“Good day to you, Bilbo Baggins. My family is fine, Otho is busy courting Blanco Bracegirlde’s daughter so he won’t be joining me today, ” responded Longo.  
  
Bilbo sighed internally in relief, firstly because he only prepared meal for five Hobbits but also because he didn’t quite like Otho Sackville-Baggins. Otho was very envious of Bilbo and he had expressed his preference to be the next Baggins rather than the Thain. Bilbo gestured Longo to proceed to the dining room and turned to the next hobbit.  
  
“Good day to you, Mister Marden! How are the Longbottom pastures?” greeted Bilbo to Marden Hornblowers, Thain of Soutfarthing.  
  
“Good day to you, Mister Bilbo! The pastures are as green as ever. Here I brought some fresh pipe-weed for you,” responded Marden.  
  
Bilbo smiled as he took the small bag from Marden, he liked visitors from Northfarthing for they always brought at least one bag of fresh pipe-weed from their pastures.  Bilbo gestured Marden to also proceed to the dining room and turned to the tallest hobbit.  
  
“Good day to you, Cousin Fortinbras! How is the chief town?” greeted Bilbo to Fortinbras II Took, Thain of Westfarthing.  
  
“Good day to you, Cousin Bilbo! The chief town is busy as ever!” responded Fortinbras as he patted Bilbo’s shoulder heartily.  
  
Bilbo gestured his Took cousin to join the other two thains and turned to the last and youngest hobbit.  
  
“Good day to you, Mister Nyle! How are the farms?” greeted Bilbo to Nyle Boffins, Thain of Eastfarthing.  
  
“Good day to you, Mister Baggins! The farms are as prosperous as ever!” Nyle squeakily responded.  
  
After the Oldbuck family moved across the water and became Brandybuck the thainship of Eastfarthing was passed between the Boffins and Bolger family. How did it passed to the young and meek Nyle Boffins, Bilbo didn’t know. He was also the only thain that still called Bilbo with his title, well Longo never did and Fortinbras only did it in jest.  
  
Bilbo ushered Nyle to the dining room, closing the door behind them. After all of them are seated they started eating and talking.  
  
“So Bilbo, what did you request our audience for?” inquired Longo.  
  
Bilbo explained to them about Gandalf, Dwarves, Dragons, and everything else. The thains listened carefully while munching through their second breakfast.  
  
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are saying that Gandalf wants _a hobbit_ do some adventuring with him?” asked Marden incredulously.  
  
“Well, me to be precise,” Bilbo said.  
  
“But that’s outrageous! You’re the Baggins for Kementári’s sake!” exclaimed Longo, “Don’t tell me you’re considering it!?”  
  
“Well I...” Bilbo was not sure what to answer since he _was_ considering it.  
  
“Don't be a fool, Bilbo Baggins! Thinking of dragons and all that outlandish nonsense at your age!" protested Longo, he was definitely so scandalized he forgot his manners and called the Baggins a fool.  
  
“Well why not?” roared Fortinbras before Bilbo could answer, “He is a Took too! An adventure is good once in a while!”  
  
“Well actually...we can’t really risk a wizard’s wrath,” piped Marden, ”It’s bad for pipe-weed business you know...”  
  
“Absolutely not! A Baggins going for an adventure? It is not respectable at all!!” Longo reiterated sharply.  
  
“Well I think...” said Nyle uncertainly. The table went quiet and all eyes turned to the young hobbit.  
  
Nyle swallowed a breath and continued, “I think...t-that Mister Baggins should do as he wishes?”  
  
“Nonsense!!” yelled Longo  
  
And the four thains fell back into an argument. Well, more like three thains fell back into argument while Nyle looked like he was willing for the chair to swallow him. Bilbo rubbed his forehead, he glanced at the clock, it was almost 10.30 a.m. and all he could think was he’s going to be late. Right then, it looked like his mind had made up its mind before he even realized it.  
  
“Ahem,” Bilbo cleared his throat and stood to his full height. The table went silent, Bilbo was the most important man in the Shire and he could be dignified and commanding if he wanted to.  
  
“Gentlehobbits, I have decided.” declared Bilbo, “I am going on an adventure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case that it was not clear, 'Mister Baggins' is equal to 'My Lord' or 'Your Majesty'.
> 
> Pairing and rating would change as the story went.
> 
> Comments are love!


	2. Cooks and Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now beta-ed!

When Bilbo finally found himself outside with travelling clothes, a travelling pack, walking stick, and other things that he usually took when he went out, it was almost eleven o’clock. He had left his keys in Fortinbras’ hands (much to Longo’s dismay) trusting his Took cousin not to declare him dead too early.  
  
And off he went, running as fast as his furry feet could carry him down the lane, past the great Mill, and across The Water. Very puffed he was, when he got to Bywater just five past eleven, and found the company had left without him! He went on for a mile or more before finally catching up with the company at the East Road.  
  
“Wait! Wait!!” called Bilbo as soon as he spotted them.  
  
The company stopped and Thorin shot him a haughty look. Bilbo noticed but chose to ignore him, for he was in a good mood and not in a hurry to ruin it.  
  
“Here, I signed it,” Bilbo gave the signed contract to Balin.  
  
Balin took out his looking glass and gave the contract a once-over.  
  
“Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”  
  
“Thank you. It’s _Mister_ Baggins actually....”  
  
Thorin cut him off with a snort and commanded, “Give him a pony.”  
  
Before Bilbo could protest further he was hauled up onto one. Bilbo fumed silently on the pony’s back.  
  
 _Must Thorin always be so infuriating?_  
  
But Bilbo had signed a contract that stated the Dwarf as the leader of the company and Bilbo had left his crown at his mantelpiece back at Bag End; right now he wasn’t the Baggins of the Shire as much as he was Bilbo Baggins, fourteenth member of the company. So Bilbo shut his mouth and rode along with the rest.  
  
Life on the road was harder than Bilbo expected. He envied the dwarves’ uncanny ability to drop and sleep anywhere; meanwhile it seemed that everywhere he laid there was a knobby root or sharp rocks sticking into his back. Bilbo was beyond glad when they reached an old ruined farm and Thorin decided that they would camp there. He hoped he might get some flat surface to sleep on that night.  
  
They were just starting to unsaddle the ponies when Gandalf stormed off. It seemed the leader of the company had a knack for pissing off important people. Night fell and Gandalf had not come back yet. Bofur rationed out dinner and asked Bilbo to bring their food to Fili and Kili.  
  
The look on their faces when Bilbo reached them was a familiar one. He had seen it in his tweens on his cousins’ faces whenever they had done some mischief that went wrong and didn’t know how to tell the adult.  
  
“We should inform the others!” Bilbo hissed as soon as they spotted the trolls.  
  
“Well,” drawled Fili.  
  
“You see,” added Kili.  
  
“We thought that since you’re our official Burglar,” Fili continued.  
  
“You could go there and burgle our ponies back!” Kili finished with a wide grin.  
  
Bilbo rolled his eyes, this was _very_ familiar indeed. He was about to refuse when the pair shot him what only could only be described as puppy-eyes. It was a potent weapon and the brothers wielded it well.  
  
“Fine,” sighed Bilbo.  
  
“Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, they will never see you,” Fili assured him.  
  
“It is perfectly safe, we'll be right behind you!” added Kili.  
  
 _Oh I’m so going to regret this!_ thought Bilbo as he stepped out of the bushes.  
  
That’s how Bilbo found himself hauled up by the trolls and being threatened to have his limbs ripped off. Bilbo looked at Thorin,who had not yet moved.  
  
 _He’s going to let me die_ , thought Bilbo in despair.  
  
But to Bilbo’s surprise, Thorin put his axe down, followed by the others. Soon half the company was bound in sacks and the other half of them tied to a makeshift rotisserie. Bilbo had accepted his not so heroic, fiery, and not to mention _untimely_ death when he heard one very useful fact:  
  
“Dawn ain't far away, let's get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone.”  
  
It seemed that the trolls would turn into stone if they were hit by sunlight and dawn _was_ near. This meant Bilbo just had to stall... _but how?_ Bilbo remembered the time when the Thains couldn’t decide how to prepare the cake for the Shire’s thirteen thirty-third anniversary. It was the longest and most tedious meeting Bilbo had to mediate as the Baggins.  
  
“Wait, you are making a terrible mistake!” exclaimed Bilbo.  
  
Three gigantic heads turned to him.  
  
“This is definitely NOT how to cook dwarves!”  
  
“What do you know about cooking dwarves?” asked Bert.  
  
“Well, have you smelled them? You need to marinate them in something stronger than Sage before you plate this one up.”  
  
Bilbo ignored the dwarves’ accusations in the background, they could call him whatever they liked if they could get out of this situation.  
  
“Can we cook ‘im too?” asked Bill.  
  
“Shut up. Let the burrahobbit talk,” demanded Bert.  
  
“I am a good cook myself, kind sirs!” said Bilbo, “To cook a dwarf you have to soak them with warm water and vinegar first!”  
  
Actually that’s how you prepared a boar, but the dwarves did have a boar-y feel to Bilbo so he rolled with it.  
  
“I see you don’t have vinegar, but I saw some lemongrass grows beside a creek not far from here. It was good for marinating as well and you could get some water there too!”  
  
“Bill, go fetch those,” said Bert.  
  
“Why do I hav’ta do the hard work?” protested Bill, “Tom, ye do it!”  
  
“Nu-uh, ye heard Bert,” said Tom.  
  
“Now, now, Mister William,” said Bilbo, “We burrahobbits have a saying that food always tastes better after hard work!”  
  
At last Bill grumpily went with a gigantic bucket to find the creek and some lemongrass. There was no creek or lemongrass anywhere nearby, Bilbo just hoped the troll would wander around until dawn was upon him.  
  
“Now what do we do after we soak ‘em all good?” Bert turned back to Bilbo.  
  
“Well...” Bilbo hesitated, “After we washed away all the dirt and grime and get them all fragrant...”  
  
“C’mon!” said Tom.  
  
“We skin and quarter them!” blurted Bilbo.  
  
The dwarves roared in outrage and shouted obscenities at him.  
  
“Tom get me filletin’ knife, we’ll cut ‘em _then_ soak ‘em,” said Bert.  
  
“No! NO!” objected Bilbo, “If you do that the grime and dirt will get mixed up with the meat and it will not taste good at all!”  
  
“What a lot of rubbish! I’ve eaten plenty woodmen with skins on, scoffed ‘em up with boots and all! There is nothing wrong with bit of raw dwarfs!” said Tom as he picked Bombur up.  
  
“Raw men yes, but raw _dwarves_?” said Bilbo, “They’re infested with _parasites._ You know, worms in their _tubes.”_  
  
Tom dropped Bombur with a disgusted cry while the dwarves protested even more loudly. Then there was a muffled thump and silence. _Finally_ someone caught up to what he was doing. For a group consisting of a king and his companions, they were not terribly bright were they?  
  
Bilbo could see the weak sunlight backlighting the boulder that shaded them. It was most likely that Bill had turned into stone somewhere out there. Bilbo just had to stall for a little longer but the trolls were getting impatient so Bilbo decided to take one more risky scheme.  
  
“Mister William had gone for quite some time, hadn’t he?” said Bilbo, “You better go check on him.”  
  
“He’s right,” said Tom, “Why don’t ye go and check on ‘im?”  
  
“You go check on him,” Bert retorted, “I’m the cook.”  
  
“Fine,” said Tom as he got up, “But I’ll get the fattest dwarf, ye hear me?”  
  
But as soon as Tom stepped out from the crevice, sunlight bathed him and with groans and cracks he turned into stone. Bilbo could hear an angry growl from the other troll behind him.  
  
“You little ferret taking us for a fool!” snarled Bert in outrage as he grabbed Bilbo up, ready to swallow him whole.  
  
 _Oh dear, I’m going to die as a snack,_ thought Bilbo as he was dangling in the air.  
  
Luckily Gandalf, with his perchance for dramatic entrances, decided to appear right then and broke the boulder with a cry,  
  
“Dawn take you all!”  
  
Sunlight flooded the crevice and the last troll turned into stone, with Bilbo still dangling from it’s hand. Bilbo raised an eyebrow at Gandalf.  
  
“Oh, well, one of you...” shrugged Gandalf.  
  
The dwarves cheered for Gandalf’s timely rescue. After all of them were released from their sacks or untied from the rotisserie and after they found the trolls’ cave, hid a trunk of treasures, and picked up some new old weapons, Bilbo caught up with Thorin at the cave’s exit.  
  
“I’d like to thank you,” confessed Bilbo.  
  
“For what?” asked Thorin.  
  
“For not letting the trolls rip my arms off I suppose, I’m indebted to you.” said Bilbo.  
  
Thorin shot him an odd look,  
  
“Think nothing of it,” said Thorin and he turned to go.  
  
Bilbo was taken aback. It was a huge thing to have the debt of a Baggins in your hand. It was said the Buckland was given to the Oldbuck family and became a small independent country because Belden Baggins owed Gorhenhad Oldbuck six geese for a feast (It was a big feast and Belden was not prepared therefore the help saved Belden’s face in front of the other thains and shirefolk).

That’s why Bilbo had to be careful of his dealing, settling a debt as soon as possible, and kept his pantry well stocked. Thorin just shrugged it off like it was nothing; it was a refreshing change _._  
  
 _Maybe he isn’t so bad after all_ , thought Bilbo.  
  
It somehow reminded Bilbo of the respect and awe in the dwarves’ faces after Balin told his tale about the battle of Azanulbizar. Thorin had a good making for a King and Bilbo supposed he could also learn a thing or two from him. Bilbo walked to join the others with the weight of that thought and his new blade when suddenly a loud rustling was heard from the bushes.  
  
The dwarves readied their weapons in an instant but what came out of the foliage was the oddest man Bilbo had ever seen, in a sled pulled by _rabbits._ Gandalf greeted the man as ‘Radagast’, it seemed that the odd man was the Brown Wizard he mentioned earlier. They were deep in a discussion (some important wizard matter, Bilbo was sure) when a sharp howl pierced the air.  
  
“Wargs,” said Bofur, “Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.”  
  
“We have to get out of here,” said Thorin.  
  
So they ran. If Bilbo wasn’t so distracted by the merry chase the Orcs gave them, he would suspect Gandalf was subtly leading them to the Valley of Imladris despite Thorin’s refusal. But Bilbo did not suspect and was struck with awe when he saw the valley.  
  
“Rivendell,” he sighed, “the Last Homely House East of the Sea...”  
  
The only Elven realm in relations with the Shire. Not many Hobbits knew about it except the Baggins and not even all Bagginses came in contact with Rivendell. But it was passed from generation through generations that _in dire need, help will come from Rivendell._  
  
So while the dwarves proceeded warily, Bilbo took time to take in the sights around him. There came a burst of song like laughter in the trees, it was a silly song filled with teasing of the dwarves. Bilbo felt his heart and his feet lighten while the dwarves (especially Thorin) became grumpier and grumpier.  
  
At last they reached a flat circular area just inside the entrance arch and a tall young elf came and greeted Gandalf only to say that Lord Elrond was not here. Then Bilbo heard the sound of a horn and galloping horses and before he knew it he was pulled into the middle of a huddle of growling dwarves. Bilbo rolled his eyes, he knew that Dwarves don't get on well with elves but did they have to be so _hostile?_ The riders come to a halt after circling the company and the leader greeted Gandalf.  
  
“Lord Elrond,” replied Gandalf.  
  
 _So that’s the Lord of Rivendell,_ thought Bilbo.  
  
He was much more venerable than the other elves. Bilbo cringed when Elrond greeted Thorin and was replied with less than kind words. Royalty or not, that dwarf really need a refresher course for his manners. Then Elrond turned to Bilbo, took one look at his brass buttons, and greeted,  
  
“The Baggins of the Shire himself! Good day to you Mister Baggins, how is the Shire?”  
  
Bilbo was surprised, he didn’t expect Elrond to recognize him as the Baggins (he was very dirty and rumpled from the journey) and even greeted him in the proper hobbit way! Bilbo ignored the looks shot by the dwarves. He then bowed his head slightly and put his left hand on his chest, responding,  
  
“Good day to you, Lord Elrond. The Shire is as beautiful and fruitful as ever.”  
  
Elrond’s face lightened and he smiled.  
  
“Welcome Mister Baggins to Rivendell. Come! You must be weary, supper was preparing I believe.”  
  
The company was ushered to the dining hall and more odd looks were given to Bilbo as he was seated with Gandalf and Thorin at Elrond’s table, not with the rest of the company.  
  
“I believe the Shire has completely recovered from the Fell Winter?” asked Elrond.  
  
“We have, it’s almost like it never happened at all. It was harsh but we survived, thanks to Gandalf and the North Rangers...” Bilbo paused, “...and your help too.”  
  
Elrond raised an eyebrow,  
  
“You knew?”  
  
Bilbo smiled and nodded. As far as the other Shirefolk knew, Gandalf and the Rangers of North came for their aid during the Fell Winter, providing food and defending them from the Orcs and White Wolves.

What they didn’t know was that there were two Elven warriors riding along with the North Rangers. It was kept secret for reasons unknown to Bilbo and he knew this only because both elves received the hospitality of Bag End. Bilbo was twenty one at that time, hiding behind his mother’s skirt and staring unabashedly at the two very alike elves.  
  
“You have a good memory, you must have been very young at that time,” said Elrond, impressed.  
  
At that moment, Thorin put down his cup more loudly than was necessary.  Bilbo was startled and gave Thorin a questioning look while Elrond shot a similar look to Gandalf.  Gandalf let out a barely concealed snort and cleared his throat.  
  
“I believe we have found some weapons you might recognize,” said Gandalf.  
  
He then proceeded to show Elrond the blades they took from the trolls' cave.  
  
“This is Orcrist the Goblin Cleaver, a famous blade forged by the High Elves from the West. May it serve you well,” Elrond gave the sword back to Thorin.  
  
“And this is Glamdring the Foe Hammer, once belonging to the King of Gondolin. It will do many deeds in your hands, Mithrandir.”  
  
Elrond eyed Gandalf knowingly. Gandalf took the sword back solemnly.  
  
“Ah! This is a long-knife, forged in the same age with Glamdring and Orcist. It has not been named yet for it has not seen battle. Take it with you Mister Baggins and name it as you see fit.”  
  
Bilbo took his sword and felt its weight on his hand. _What shall I name it? I know nothing of sword names!_  
  
“Relax Bilbo, you should name it _after_ you had done something with it,” said Gandalf.  
  
Bilbo heard a chuckle from Thorin and felt heat bloom on his face to his ear tips.  
  
That night, after Elrond read the moon runes for them, Bilbo walked with Thorin and Balin to their chambers. Thorin was grumbling hushed curses for the Elf-Lord. This really bothered Bilbo, Elrond may have called Thorin a fool indirectly but Thorin’s behaviour wasn’t exemplary either.  
  
“Do you have to be that rude? It is not good for foreign relations you know...” snipped Bilbo, his brows furrowed in irritation.  
  
“What do you know about foreign relations, little Halfling?” sneered Thorin.  
  
“I know enough to see that your behaviour was not acceptable for a King!” Bilbo glared at Thorin.  
  
“Enough! I will not hear a word more from you, Hobbit!”  
  
“If that’s how you treat every leader of races other than your own, Thorin son of Thrain, I wonder why your people haven’t perished in wars waged against you!” Bilbo didn’t shout but his tone was icy.  
  
Bilbo walked away towards his chamber, head held high, leaving a stunned Thorin behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an Omake for this chapter [here](http://fangirlyra.tumblr.com/post/41127870110/a-small-omake-for-my-ongoing-fic-on-the-hobbit).
> 
> Any nitpick about anything is very much welcomed. Comments/review would made my day! =D


	3. Ups and Downs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also beta-ed now~ \\(^-^)/

Bilbo was still seething in anger when he walked away. Initially he wanted to go back to his chamber but at this rate he would not be able to rest. So he walked around and let the night air cool him off. At a distance, he could hear the dwarves’ laughing and merrymaking.  Bilbo sighed. He had grown to like most of the company but _Thorin,_ that dwarf seemed to have a personal vendetta against _everything._  
  
Bilbo reached a veranda and, leaning on the bars, rubbed his temples. Not that he could blame Thorin for his behaviour, not with that life he had led. Bilbo started to feel a little bit guilty about his outburst. He really should have handled that more carefully or at least waited until Thorin was less aggravated, but Thorin had touched a sore spot.  
  
 _“What do you know about foreign relations, little Halfling?”_  
  
Bilbo heaved another sigh. He had been young when his father passed away, one year before his thirty-third birthday. Most of the Thains had thought he was too young and not knowledgeable enough to be the next Baggins; there were even talks about a regent (started by Longo Sackville-Baggins). Fortunately his mother had put her foot down and Bilbo became the 30th Baggins at thirty two. Despite the initial worries, Bilbo ruled well, but insinuating that he knew nothing of the political world was still a sore spot for Bilbo.  
  
Bilbo thought of his father. His father was a good Baggins, if it was his father in this situation he would give Thorin a few choices of words without even raising his voice and leave him questioning his own conduct. Meanwhile his mother... Bilbo chuckled, his mother would add a good clap round the ear. Bilbo felt his anger ease away. He stretched his back and walked back to his chambers, deciding that tomorrow he’d find a chance to make up with Thorin.  
  
The chance didn’t come. The next day they left at dawn, discreetly so that the elves couldn’t stop them. Gandalf was called into council and distracted them as the company took their leave. And if Thorin treated Bilbo with dislike before, now he was downright _hostile._ Thorin ignored him for most part so that wasn’t much of a change but on the occasions that he _did_ speak to him it was nothing but cutting remarks bordering on insult.  
  
But it seemed that Thorin hadn't told the other dwarves about his little outburst last night, for they did not treat him any differently.  Fili and Kili even started to teach him how to properly wield his sword and Bofur would spar with him when they had the time.  
  
One day, after Bilbo returned to camp with Fili and Kili from gathering firewood for the night, they settled down to wait for Bofur and Bombur to prepare dinner. Kili turned to Bilbo and asked,  
  
“Tell us more about Hobbits!”  
  
Bilbo pulled out his pipe and chuckled.  
  
“What do you want to know?” He had already told the dwarves about how Lithe and Yule was celebrated in the Shire.  
  
“How about courting habits?” said Fili, “That seem like it would be interesting.”  
  
Kili perked up and exclaimed his agreement. Bilbo raised an eyebrow, that question was a little improper. Courting habits were usually told by parents to their children together with the talk about ‘bird and bees’ and always done in private. But they were not talking about ‘bird and bees’ and Bilbo couldn’t see any harm in telling them.  
  
“Alright,” agreed Bilbo.  
  
The brothers smiled and settled; from the corner of his eyes he could see Ori leaning their direction while his fingers still worked neatly on his knitting.  
  
“Do you want to join us, Ori?” Bilbo asked.  
  
Ori blushed a little but quickly settled beside Fili and brought his knitting with him. To Bilbo’s surprise, Bofur also joined them.  
  
“Bombur can do the rest of the cooking,” he shrugged and sat beside Ori.  
  
Fair enough, Bofur was a nice audience anyway. Bilbo cleared his throat and began,  
  
“Hobbits start to court by giving an extraordinary present. It could be anything, intricate carvings, jewelleries, tools, but usually something extravagant for the courter, or flashy, or have a deep meaning for the courted, and always handmade. The first present will always belong to the courted regardless if they accepted the courting or not.”  
  
“What is the most extravagant gift ever given?” asked Kili.  
  
“Well I don’t want boast but since you asked, the most extravagant courting gift ever was given by Bungo Baggins, my father, to Belladonna Took, my mother,” said Bilbo with pride.  
  
“What is it?” asked Ori, wide eyed.  
  
“You’ve all seen it and slept in it,” said Bilbo, “My father single-handedly built Bag-End for my mother.”  
  
The dwarves let out a series of exclamations, clearly impressed and Ori gushed about how romantic it was. Bilbo smiled and continued,  
  
“When the courted has accepted the courting, next comes the six sets of courting flowers. There’s a song for it.”  
  
Bilbo cleared his throat and started to sing,  
  
 _“First comes the Red Rose of true love aflame,_  
 _and give me back an Ambrosia if you feel the same._  
 _Second comes the Lavender for my everlasting loyalty,_  
 _and give me back a Heliotrope for your sincerity._  
 _Third comes the Lilly of the Valley ‘cause I trust you,_  
 _and give me back an Aster if you trust me too._  
  
 _Forth comes the Gardenia for the joys we have today,_  
 _and give me back a Celandine for more along the way._  
 _Fifth comes the Azalea for passion beyond measure,_  
 _and give me back a Red Poppy for promised pleasure._  
 _Last comes the Primrose for eternal love that dawned,_  
 _and give me back a Honeysuckle to seal our bond.”_  
  
Bilbo finished the song and looked at his enthralled audience. He felt rather chuffed with himself in wake of the wide eyed wonder that the young dwarves emoted.  
  
“Both the courted and courter must keep the flowers that were exchanged fresh and alive for they will be woven into a crown that will be exchanged on their wedding day,” Bilbo ended his story.  
  
He took a deep whiff from his pipe and blew out a perfect smoke ring. Turning to the dwarves, he asked,  
  
“How about dwarves? How do _you_ court?”  
  
“We dwarves of Blue Mountains are mostly miners, so we have a set of courting gems,” said Bofur, “It is similar to your courting flowers but nothing has to be given back in exchange. If it is accepted they keep it and they give it back if it is not.  
  
“There’s four stones in the set,” Bofur raised four of his fingers.  
  
“First one is an Opal, which means hope. That’s how we ask permission to court,” he folded in one finger.  
  
“Second one is a Sapphire or a Turquoise, both mean sincerity. If it is accepted then we become lovers,” he folded in the second finger.  
  
“Third one is a Ruby, for passion, or a Garnet, for long lasting love. That’s how we ask for their hand in marriage,” he folded in the third finger.  
  
“The last one is an Emerald, which means love, new life, and fertility. It is given on the marriage ceremony and accepting it means the marriage is official,” he folded in his last finger. “That’s how we court in Blue Mountains. But I think you Durin’s Folk did it differently?”  
  
Bilbo turned to Fili, Kili, and Ori, who suddenly looked down and shifted their eyes.  
  
“It should be...” started Kili.  
  
“But we don’t know actually...” continued Fili.  
  
“I wasn’t written in any books!” said Ori.  
  
“And when we asked people...” said Kili.  
  
“They never answered and would look very sad and forlorn," finished Fili.  
  
All three dwarves sighed in defeat. It seemed that they had tried to find out when they were younger but their search was in vain. That’s when Balin suddenly took a seat between Bilbo and Bofur and said,  
  
“I think I can help you with that.”  
  
Balin smiled as the three young dwarves perked up and looked at him with hope.  
  
“It was a fairly simple process. We asked permission to court by asking our intended to stay in our home,” explained Balin, “If they agree to be courted, they would come and stay in our home for around one year. This was like a trial period you see...”  
  
Five heads nodded.  
  
“Outside, we would continue as usual, but inside the house gifts would be exchanged and sometimes intimacies, too,” he continued, “If everything went well the courting would result in marriage, if it didn’t the courted would move back to their own home.”  
  
“That’s why people avoided that question,” said Balin to Kili, Fili, and Ori, “Because most of us didn’t feel that we had a proper home.”  
  
“Is that why Uncle never courted anybody?” asked Kili.  
  
Balin chuckled at that.  
  
“In Thorin’s case, I think he just hasn’t found someone worth courting.”  
  
Bilbo pondered that for a while before something hit him.  
  
“Thorin is your uncle?” he asked Fili and Kili.  
  
“Yes?” answered Fili.  
  
“I didn’t know that...” said Bilbo  
  
“Now you do!” said Kili as if it wasn’t an important matter.  
  
Before Bilbo could say anything else, Bombur called out that dinner was ready. The group dispersed to gather their bowls for dinner.  
  
Bilbo would often exchange stories with some of the dwarves: Fili, Kili, and more often than not Ori were always curious about Hobbits customs and cultures; Gloin just loved to boast about his wife and son; Oin was very knowledgeable in herbs; Balin was fond of heroic tales of kingdoms and wars; while Bofur knew plenty of children's tales. Bifur rarely talked, but often sat with them.  
  
Bilbo kept looking for a chance to talk with Thorin, but the exiled king dismissed him every time before Bilbo could utter a single word. Bilbo grew frustrated, he even thought of sending words to Thorin through Fili or Kili.  But apologies should be said in person, not through other people. He started to feel that it was not worth it.  
  
 _Why do I care so much about what Thorin think of me anyway?_  
  
Before Bilbo could dwell any further on his thought, the rain poured down buckets, making the road slippery, so Bilbo pushed unnecessary thought to the back of his mind and watched his step. He almost slipped and fell once they reached a narrow mountain pass near the top. Thankfully, Dwalin grabbed him and pulled him back.  
  
Then Bilbo saw it: giant stone figures hurling boulders to each others. _Thunder battle._ Bilbo couldn’t put it better himself. Bilbo was struck in awe and fear. Then the ground beneath them started to move as well: they were standing on another stone giant!  
  
Bilbo prayed for a swift death as the rock they were standing on clashed with the mountainside. But his wishes were not granted as he somehow slipped and now hung on to dear life with his fingertips.  
  
“No, Fili! NO!!”  
  
Bilbo could hear Thorin desperate call at his nephew, as despite all his broody and tough appearance he did have a soft side. Bilbo found himself wishing that the call was aimed at _him_.  
  
 _Foolish thought of a dying hobbit_ , thought Bilbo, for he held on as tight as he could but he could feel his grip slipping and his feet couldn’t find a footing.  
  
“Where is Bilbo? Where is the Hobbit?” one of the dwarves called.  
  
 _Bless Bofur and his kind heart._  
  
Kili grabbed his left hand right before Bilbo’s grip finally slipped but Bofur reached for his other hand too late. Thorin looked down on him as he tried in vain to reach Bofur’s hand and the king actually jumped down to a notch on the cliff and hauled Bilbo up.  
  
“I thought we had lost our burglar,” said Bofur as they caught their breaths.  
  
Bilbo looked up and saw Thorin give him an infuriated look.  
  
 _Come on Bilbo! Say something! Thank him! Apologize! Anything!_ Bilbo kicked himself mentally, but Thorin opened his mouth before he could collect his words.  
  
“He's been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come! He has no place amongst us!”  
  
Bilbo winced, the words stinging like a blade to his chest. He barely noticed when the dwarves led him into a small cave. All Bilbo could think was that Thorin was right, he was not fit for a journey such as this. So when night fell and all of the others were asleep, Bilbo packed his stuff silently and made to sneak out.  
  
“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Thorin who was keeping watch.  
  
Bilbo cursed his luck, _of all dwarves why must it be this one?_  
  
“Back to Rivendell. You said so yourself, I should never have come. You were right,” said Bilbo matter-of-factly, “I am the Baggins. I don’t know what I was thinking... I should never have left the Shire.”  
  
Thorin was silent for a few moments and Bilbo could only guess what the dwarf was thinking.  
  
“Do as you wish,” grunted Thorin.  
  
Bilbo turned to go but stopped after a few steps.  
  
“I apologize for my words in Rivendell... and thank you, I suppose, for saving my life...again,” said Bilbo without looking at Thorin.  
  
Silence hung between them like a blanket, thick and heavy on his shoulders. Bilbo hunched his back, not sure what he was waiting for.  
  
“You-,” Thorin tried to say something, but at the same time the dirt underneath them began to shift. Thorin yelled for the other dwarves to wake up but it was too late. The ground opened and down they fell.  
  
Down and down they fell until they landed in some sort of wooden contraption and goblins swarmed them. The goblins tore through their packs and disarmed them but somehow they missed Bilbo. Off they carried the rest of the company and left Bilbo behind.  
  
 _What should I do now?_ He couldn’t leave the company in the hands of these goblins and he didn’t know the way out anyway, so Bilbo drew his sword and tried to follow them. But before he could get too far, a goblin jumped at him and knocked both of them off the platform, and down Bilbo fell again.  
  
Bilbo came into consciousness and he was...not dead, some sort of mushrooms had cushioned his fall. There he  picked up a small simple golden ring and he saw the most curious creature he’d ever seen. Neither a goblin nor an orc, it was unlike any other races Bilbo ever saw. The creature seemed to either want to eat him or play games with him. It was an obvious choice really, so Bilbo played the most bizarre riddle game of his life.  
  
The game ended abruptly when the creature became suddenly enraged after it couldn’t answer Bilbo’s last question (it was not a valid riddle, granted) and hissed about ‘his precious’ that was lost. Suddenly the creature charged, so Bilbo bolted. After a narrow escape (very narrow indeed, for he lost all his brass buttons) he tripped and fell and the ring slipped onto his finger.  
  
The creature leapt after him but passed him by; apparently, the ring had made him invisible. Bilbo followed the creature silently in hopes that it would lead him to the exit. His hope was not in vain for after a while he saw Gandalf and the dwarves run by the tunnel he was in. He needed to followed them quickly before he lost them again!  
  
But the creature was between them. Bilbo drew his sword to kill it, but a sudden understanding, a pity mixed with horror, welled up in Bilbo's heart: a glimpse of endless unmarked days without light or hope of betterment, hard stone, cold fish, sneaking and whispering. All these thoughts passed in a flash of a second and it stilled Bilbo’s hand.  
  
So Bilbo sheathed his sword, took a few step back, then he ran and leaped over the creature. It tried to catch him but it failed. Bilbo ran and ran, out of the tunnel, down the hill, until he heard Gandalf bellow,  
  
“What happened exactly? Tell me!”  
  
Bilbo sighed in relief and ran down towards the company.  
  
“I’ll tell you what happened!” Thorin’s voice made Bilbo stop his tracks. He hid behind a tree nearby and listened.  
  
“Mister Baggins saw his chance and he took it. He's of thought nothing but his soft bed and warm house since his first step out his door. We will not be seeing our Hobbit again, he is long gone,” said Thorin.  
  
Bilbo rested his head on the tree bark and weighed his options. He found himself _wanting_. He wanted to see more of this world, he wanted to be with the company through the end, he wanted to prove that Thorin was _wrong,_ but most of all he wanted to see that stubborn dwarf take back his home, to see him walk with pride again. So he took off the ring and walked out of the shadows.  
  
“No, he isn’t.”  
  
Bilbo savoured the relieved and surprised looks aimed at him.  
  
“Bilbo, we'd given you up,” said Kili.  
  
“How in hell did you get past the goblins?” asked Fili.  
  
"I just...crept along, you know--very carefully and quietly," Bilbo hoped the answer satisfied the dwarves.  
  
“What does it matter? He is back!” exclaimed Gandalf gladly.  
  
“It matters,” said Thorin, “I want to know. Why did you come back?”  
Now _that_ Bilbo would gladly answer.  
  
“I know you doubt me. And you're right, I often think of the Shire, from the northern moors to the marshes in the south, from the Brandywine River to the White Downs. See, that's where I belong, that's home for my people.”  
  
Bilbo looked Thorin straight in the eyes.  
  
“See, that’s why I came back. You didn’t have one, a place to belong and a place to call home for your people. It was taken from you.... So I will help you take it back if I can.”  
  
Bilbo held his gaze and Thorin was the first one to look away. And again when Thorin was about to say something the universe intervened, this time with howls of wargs.  
So off they ran again, down the hill and up the trees with wargs snapping at their ankles. Then Azog the Pale Orc appeared, tall on his white warg, full of spite, and very much _alive._ Bilbo saw Thorin’s eyes become wild, terror, disbelief, and vengeance running amok.  
  
The orc roared an order in a language Bilbo did not understand and the wargs charged against them, shaking the trees and breaking the lower branches. The trees were soon uprooted and crashed to each other as the company scrambled to the furthermost trees.  
  
The wargs chased after them but Gandalf set one pine cone alight and threw it whizzing down among the circle of the wolves. Other flaming pine cones were passed to the dwarves, which they used to set more alight.  They hurled the fiery pine cones to the ground, making a flaming barrier between their pine and the wargs.  But the tree could not hold the weight of thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard for too long and it began to topple.  
  
Azog smirked for he was content to see the company fall down into the abyss.  Bilbo cursed as Thorin walked passed him, through the fiery branches, and charged straight at the pale orc.  
  
 _For Old Toby’s sake! If the wargs and orcs can’t come after you it doesn’t mean you should go after them, you idiotic dwarf!_  
  
And he watched in horror as Azog used Thorin as a chew toy for his warg. Bilbo brandished his sword as the warg flung Thorin into a rock. The pale orc climbed down from his steed and walked slowly towards Thorin, raising his mace to unleash one last deadly blow upon Thorin’s skull.  
  
Bilbo flung himself into the orc, sending both of them toppling to the ground. Azog raised his mace again to strike Bilbo but Bilbo had impaled the Defiler’s throat with his sword. The orc let out a gurgle and dropped his mace, and Bilbo yanked his sword out. The white warg charged after him so he rammed his sword in the warg’s skull, right between its eyes. He wrenched it out as the warg fell dead at his feet, his blade glistening with black blood.  
  
The other orcs and wargs snarled at him but hesitated to charge. Bilbo raised his sword and stood in front of Thorin.  
  
“I am the Baggins of the Shire and I am the Defiler’s end!”  
  
And he charged, followed by Kili, Fili, and Dwalin. The wargs and orcs fought back and quickly surrounded the four of them for there were many. Then a loud screech was heard and the eagles were upon them like huge black shadows. Their talons tore into the enemies and they seized the company. Soon the light of the burning forest was faint below, a red twinkle on the black floor. They soared high up in the sky, leaving the mountains behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More back story!
> 
> In any case I'd really like to know what you think about this chapter!
> 
> There's a side story for the first three chapter [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1049639).


	4. Beans Out of the Baggins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally all cleaned up and shiny~ 
> 
> My everlasting and eternal gratitude to the amazing [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com)!

The eagles set them down gently on a hill top. Gandalf rushed to see to Thorin as the dwarves gathered in a worried huddle around his still form. Bilbo stood back, the adrenaline rush had abated and now he was not sure what to do. He was peering worriedly when Thorin came into consciousness and asked for him.  
  
“It’s alright, he’s quite safe,” Gandalf replied and gestured to Bilbo.  
  
“Azog?” asked Thorin as he sat up.  
  
“Dead. We’re sure of it this time,” said Dwalin, who was helping him.  
  
“How?”  
  
“By Bilbo’s blade,” Kili confirmed.  
  
At that, Thorin stood up abruptly, shrugging off the dwarves that tried to help him. He looked at Bilbo with such a menacing glare that Bilbo took a step back in a flash of fear. Thorin froze like he had been slapped in the face, and just like that he turned his back to Bilbo, leaving the hobbit at a loss.  
  
Thorin proceed to give instructions for Gloin and Nori to inspect their surroundings and find a suitable shelter. Bilbo turned to Gandalf, who was shooting disapproving looks at Thorin. When Gandalf’s gaze met Bilbo’s bewildered one, he closed his eyes with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.    
  
Soon Gloin and Nori returned and relayed that there was a path leading down to a river. Near the bottom of the path was a little cave; it was a wholesome one with a pebbly floor and definitely not a Goblin front-porch. They were sure, they triple checked the walls and floor. There the party gathered and discussed what was to be done, while taking turns cleaning themselves and their clothes in the river.  
  
The water was shallow and clear and Bilbo was glad because he was itching to be clean. He could worry about what Thorin was thinking later when he was free from grime and dirt. Bilbo took off his clothes and gingerly walked into the cool water, not noticing a certain black-haired dwarf followed his every movement with his eyes.  
  
The sun was strong and warm, and soon all of the company was cleaned, refreshed, and reenergized with a clear destination. Apparently, Gandalf knew a skin-changer named Beorn who lived nearby in place called the Carrock; however, he disliked strangers and beggars and was very dangerous if angered so they needed a clever scheme so that he would help them. And how lucky they were to have a wizard amongst them, for clever scheming was what a wizard did best!  
  
After a while, they passed bee pastures with the most enormous honeybees Bilbo ever saw buzzing around large flowers and came to a belt of tall and very ancient oaks. Gandalf divided the dwarves into pairs and instructed them to wait for his cue to follow him down the path to Beorn’s home in pairs, with Bombur (who was the fattest and would do for two) leaving last. And with that, he set off along the hedge taking Bilbo with him. When they passed through the gate and far enough from the dwarves’ earshot that Bilbo felt safe, Bilbo finally gave in to his curiosity,  
  
“Gandalf, I was wondering....” he hesitantly began.  
  
“Yes?” said Gandalf.  
  
“Have I offended Thorin?”  
  
“What, by saving his life and killing the orc who had sworn to eradicate his family?” asked Gandalf back.  
  
“I suppose? He seemed to be quite angry at me...”  
  
Gandalf creased his brows and sighed,  
  
“There are many things going on inside Thorin’s mind right now and anger is only one of them, I’m afraid...”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
They continued down the path in thoughtful silence until they met the skin-changer. Gandalf’s scheme worked like a charm (even though it took quite a lot of time, the sun had fallen behind the peaks of the Misty Mountains and the shadows were long in Beorn's garden by the time he was finished) and the company was rewarded with a hearty supper.  It was a feast such as they had not had since they raided Bilbo’s pantry at the beginning of their journey.  
  
The entire time they ate, Beorn, his voice deep and rolling, told tales of the wild lands on this side of the mountains, and especially of the dark and dangerous wood that lay stretched far to the North and South. The terrible forest of Mirkwood lay a day's ride before them, barring their passage to the East. The dwarves listened and shook their beards, for they knew that they would soon need to venture into that forest and that, after the mountains, it was the worst of the perils they had to pass before they came to the dragon's stronghold. But that night, they slept with full stomachs and warm hearts, keeping the dark doubts in their minds at bay.  
  
It was late morning when Bilbo awoke. He found that breakfast had been laid out on the veranda, though most of it was already inside the dwarves. Beorn was nowhere in sight, neither was Gandalf nor Thorin. The hobbit ate as quickly as he could before more of the food disappeared inside the dwarves, especially since Bombur was eyeing the table wistfully.  
  
After breakfast, Bilbo decided to get to work on mending his torn clothes. They’d had the opportunity to clean themselves the day before but his waistcoat was still missing all of its buttons. The dwarves were gathered in the main hall and were mending their clothes and armour with whatever tools they had. Bilbo couldn’t help but to be intrigued by the various proficiency of the dwarves’ attempts, from Ori's expert mending of his unravelled mittens, to Oin's crude reshaping of his ear trumpet with a smooth rock. Bilbo sat beside the younger dwarf and asked him,  
  
“Do you have a spare needle and some threads that I can use? And some metal buttons?”  
  
“I should have it somewhere...” Ori prodded his coat pockets and let out a small ‘aha’ when he found what he was looking for.  
  
“Here you go, Mister Baggins,” Ori handed him a ball of thin yarn and a needle. “As for the buttons... Do they have to be metal? Bofur should have some wooden beads you could use...”  
  
“It is what is proper...” Bilbo hesitated.  
  
“Maybe you could use these,” Nori suddenly piped up. Bilbo turned and saw Nori undoing some of his hair clasps.  
  
“No! No need really!” Bilbo said hurriedly before Nori could undo more clasps and ruin his intricately pinned hair. “Wooden beads are fine! Not that anyone would _know_ if a Baggins is improper on this side of Misty Mountains!”  
  
Nori just looked slightly deflated and put the clasps back in his hair. Bilbo was at loss; had he offended the dwarf? He went to Bofur to ask for the wooden beads.  
  
“Have I said something wrong?” asked Bilbo while Bofur scrounged in his satchel for them.  
  
“Don’t worry about it, he’s just trying to help,” replied Bofur as he handed him a small pouch filled with many kinds of wooden beads.  
  
“But why?” curiosity trumped over his manners as Bilbo really wanted to know. He wasn’t exactly close to Nori or most of the older ones in the company and, as far as he could tell, hair clasps were important to the dwarves and very often were family heirlooms. It was Balin who answered his question.  
  
“You have done a great deed for us, Master Baggins,” he said solemnly, “You have slain the Pale Orc, the one that scorned Durin’s folk by defiling our king and carving his filthy name on his forehead. Therefore we take off our hoods to you and our services are at your disposal.”  
  
“But Thorin...” began Bilbo.  
  
“Don’t worry about him! Let him tend to his wounded pride, he’ll come around sooner or later,” cut in Dwalin with a rumbling chuckle.  
  
Bilbo didn’t know what else to say, so he sat back on his space and worked in silence. Conversation continued around the fire and a few humorous tales were shared.  
  
“How about you, Master Baggins? Don’t you have a tale or two to share?” asked Dori.  
Bilbo pondered for a while then said,  
  
“Well, there’s this funny story about the 13th Baggins that pines day and night after...”  
  
“What do you mean by the 13th Baggins? I thought Baggins was you family name, not a title!” Gloin interrupted his story before it even began.  
  
“I guess you could say that it is both... Wait, didn’t Gandalf tell you about me?” asked Bilbo.  
  
“Gandalf told us that he had found a Hobbit burglar, that’s all we need to know, isn’t it?” said Bombur.  
  
Bilbo rubbed his temple, all this time he thought the dwarves knew! Not that it would make much difference _now_ but that explained quite a few of things...  
  
“So you _are_ someone important in the Shire?” asked Fili.  
  
“Um... yes.”  
  
“ _How_ important exactly?” inquired Kili.  
  
“Let’s just say that there is only one Mister Baggins at a time and that he represents the Shire to others and itself, and his duties including leading the Shirefolk in war if the occasions arise and be the final judge for them,” answered Bilbo in practiced manner, “Not that we have faced any wars in the last hundred years or so but...”  
  
The circle went silent and everyone stared at him as if he’d grown a second head, all except for Oin who was still knocking on his ear trumpet.  
  
“So you’re saying that you’re... a King?” Bofur broke the stunned silence.  
  
“Basically yes,” answered Bilbo.  
  
“Well I’ll be...” a round of exclaimed surprise uttered by the dwarves except for Bofur who was just staring at him slack-jawed. After that came the avalanche of questions.  
  
“Why didn’t you told us sooner?” demanded Dwalin.  
  
“I thought all of you already knew!”  
  
“So Bag End is a royal palace?” asked Nori.  
  
“A royal _smial_ , yes. Why else do you think _Gandalf_ can fit in it?”  
  
“But you didn’t dress any different than the other Hobbits!” exclaimed Gloin.  
  
“We do actually...”said Bilbo, “Although it is not too obvious... There is a nursery rhyme that describes it.”  
  
Bilbo took a breath and sang out the familiar tune:  
  
“ _Wooden buttons and woollen balls for everyone to share,_  
 _Carved buttons with curved wires for the Thains and their heir,_  
 _But only metal buttons that gleam are fit for the Baggins to wear!”_  
  
“Ah, that’s why you were looking for metal buttons earlier!” said Nori. Bilbo nodded.  
  
“Is it really fine for you to go with us?” Bofur finally got his voice back.  
  
“It should be, there are the Thains to look after the Shire, and so long as I am back before a year and half there won’t be any major issues. Though, I think my cousin Fotinbras would wait until two years before declaring me dead. But I’m sure I’m not allowed to go on another adventure after this...” said Bilbo wistfully.  
  
Bilbo had accepted that this was the only adventure that he’d be attending. He was neither happy nor unhappy about that, that’s just the way it was. But he was glad he hadn’t turned back in the caves, glad he hadn’t given up at any point on their adventure. Bifur then uttered a series of grunts and gestures, breaking him from his morose thoughts.  
  
“Bifur wants to know whether this means you could give out capital punishment if you wanted,” translated Bombur.  
  
“No!” exclaimed Bilbo in horror, “We don’t _have_ capital punishment in the Shire!”  
  
“This means Mister Baggins is actually your title?” asked Balin, “I’m sorry I’ve been calling you improperly...”  
  
“It’s quite alright, Mister Balin. No one has called me that since my father passed away, it felt strangely nostalgic...” Bilbo smiled fondly at Balin who returned it with an equally fond smile.  
  
“Do you have a crown?” questioned Ori with wide eyes.  
  
“I do. It was on my mantelpiece. Didn’t you see it the night you raided my pantry?” asked Bilbo back.  
  
Kili finally couldn’t hold his laughter in anymore. He gave out a raucous laugh.  
  
“This is great! I can’t wait to see uncle’s face when he knows that _Bilbo_ has a higher rank than him!”  
  
“What do you mean higher rank?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Oh come on! _Baggins of the Shire, King of all Shirefolk_ definitely beats King-grumpypants-in-exile!” Fili joined his brother in laughter.  
  
The others did not join the brothers but instead looking at the looming figure behind them.  
  
“Um...”stammered Fili.  
  
“He’s right behind us, isn’t he?” said Kili.  
  
“Mister Baggins, I need to talk to you” said the figure in question while the lads shrunk visibly, ready to bolt, “And would you care to explain what this is all about?”  
  
Bilbo looked up at Thorin to say something and their eyes locked. The sheer intensity of Thorin’s gaze sent shivers down Bilbo’s spine and made him wonder what was behind it. Thin lips shifted and Thorin asked,  
  
“Would you come with me?”  
  
Bilbo found that words had left him entirely and his throat had suddenly gone dry. So he put down his half-finished work, nodded, and followed Thorin out of the hall. Bilbo walked with trepidation and couldn’t help but became anxious.  
  
He was painfully aware that he never had a talk, chat, or even a shared moment with Thorin, and now Thorin wanted to talk to him – _alone._ Bilbo simply didn’t know what to expect. He glanced at Thorin who was looking straight forward, face set in a grim lines and betraying nothing.  
  
They reached the flower garden just outside the veranda. The sun was high and bright in the sky, illuminating the flowers with warm light. In the center lay a great oak-trunk with many lopped-off branches stacked beside it. On this log, Thorin and Bilbo took their seats.  
  
Silence stretched between them. There was tightness in the dead air until finally Thorin broke it with quiet but serious words.  
  
“I should apologize for my nephews; one shouldn’t jest about being a king so lightly.”  
  
Bilbo nodded in agreement.  
  
“Especially to a commoner. Being a royalty is not as grand or heroic as one might think, Mister Baggins,” continued Thorin.  
  
Bilbo almost said something in agreement before he processed Thorin’s words entirely _._ When he did, Bilbo couldn’t believe his ears. _Thorin thinks everything was a joke?_  
  
“How much did you hear?” asked Bilbo  
  
“Just my nephews’ jesting, I’m afraid,” answered Thorin.  
  
Bilbo rolled his eyes in exasperation. He was not sure he _wanted_ to tell Thorin now, he’d just had similar conversation and he was not eager to repeat it anytime soon. So Bilbo just said,  
  
“Don’t be too harsh on them, they’re still young.”  
  
At that Thorin heaved a sigh, his face creased with worry and something else Bilbo could not put his finger on.  
  
“You’re right, they’re still young. I brought them on this journey without them knowing the weight of responsibility that would befell them should we succeed,” said Thorin.  
There was a brief silence, like an indrawn breath. Bilbo pondered whether Thorin realized that he had bared his feelings toward his nephews to him. But then Thorin continued,  
  
“They knew nothing of a King’s responsibility...” He paused and looked at Bilbo, “neither do you, I suppose... nor the others.”  
  
There was no bite to his words, just weariness of the weight on his shoulder. Thorin sounded so lonely, the sky in his eyes darkened, and Bilbo felt a tug inside him.  
  
“I do know,” stated Bilbo.  
  
Bilbo was pleased to see the shadow in Thorin’s eyes dissipated in a blink, replaced by surprise and puzzlement.  
  
“You see,” continued Bilbo when it looked like Thorin wasn’t going to say anything, “Fili and Kili were not _entirely_ jesting.”  
  
Bilbo watched as the cogs turned inside Thorin’s head before the pieces finally clicked in place.   
  
Bilbo felt a smile tug on his lips. _Kili was right, it is rather amusing._  
  
“You really are...” Thorin tapered off, losing his voice midway through the sentence.  
  
“Baggins of the Shire, Leader of All Hobbitfolk. Yes,” finished Bilbo, amusement slightly colouring his voice.  
  
“You left your... to help us...”  
  
Thorin couldn’t seem to make full sentences and Bilbo began to worry. He _had not_ just broken the dwarven king, right?But even a polite hobbit like Bilbo couldn’t resist making one last jab,  
  
“Now you can’t say that all races have abandoned your people.”  
  
Thorin jerked as if he had been whipped, opening his mouth a few times but no sound emerged.  Then he took a deep breath and let out a breathy chuckle. Bilbo felt a blush start to form on his cheeks.  
  
“I might not be a great King or all the sorts but it still is not a laughing matter!” huffed Bilbo, trying to hide his mortification.  
  
“I’m sorry, I did not mean to laugh at you, Mister Baggins. It’s just this whole thing is so...”  
  
“Ludicrous?” supplied Bilbo.  
  
“Not that. Merely... unexpected,” said Thorin with half a smile. Bilbo raised his eyebrow.  
  
“Not that I’m saying you do not look like a King,” said Thorin, “In hindsight, it makes a lot of sense actually. I should have realized it sooner.”  
Bilbo shrugged.  
  
“Not that anyone else noticed,” he returned.  
  
Thorin hummed in agreement and a companionable silence befell them.  
  
“Is that all, Mister Oakenshield?” asked Bilbo after a while.  
  
“No, Mister Baggins,” answered Thorin, “I wanted to talk to you about something else entirely before we got... sidetracked.”  
  
“Do you still want to?”  
  
“I do,” said Thorin, “I was just trying to find the words... it’s about _Azog_.”  
  
Thorin spat out the orc’s name like a poison. Bilbo cringed; Thorin _was_ angry about the whole mes _s_ after all.  
  
“I’m sorry,” said Bilbo.  
  
“What on middle earth are you sorry for?” asked Thorin, astounded.  
  
“For killing the pale orc? I thought you were angry that I killed your sworn foe...”  
  
“Aye, I was angry. But not for the reasons that you think.”  
  
Bilbo became relieved but at the same time he became curious, and he wanted to _know._ So he kept silent, hoping Thorin would continue. And continue Thorin did,  
  
“I was angry because I made a foolish decision to charge on Azog when I know I could not win. I was angry because I failed and _you_ had to save me.”  
  
“That I did, didn’t I?” said Bilbo, feeling a little accomplished.  
  
“What were you thinking, really? You nearly got yourself killed...”  
  
“I wasn’t,” retorted Bilbo, secretly admitting that he also wasn’t thinking when he jumped at the orc _._  
  
“When you joined this journey, I thought you would be nothing but a burden, and that you would not survive in the wild,” said Thorin with a snort.  
  
“You’ve told me that much,” said Bilbo, irritated. Thorin just admitted that Bilbo saved his life and now he insulted him. Bilbo _really_ did not understand this dwarf.  
  
“And I’ve never been so wrong in my entire life.”  
  
 _Oh._  
  
“Mister Baggins, you have shown us a great loyalty. You risked your life to save mine and you have slain the enemy that has haunted the line of Durin. Therefore, I offer you my service such as it is, in repayment of this debt. You will have our axes and swords, and your people will be welcomed in the home of every Durin’s folk,” declared Thorin.  
  
Bilbo wanted to refuse for Thorin had saved his life twice before. But to refuse such a declaration would mean an insult to the dwarves.  So Bilbo had no other choice than to answer,  
  
“I accept your service Thorin, son of Thrain, and these conditions I ask of you.” Thorin nodded and looked Bilbo straight in his eyes, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“First, call me _Bilbo._ Because that what my friends call me,” Bilbo paused. “We are friends, right?”  
  
“Friends...” Thorin drawled as if testing the weight of the word on his tongue, “Aye we can be that.”  
  
“Second, by offering you axes and swords it means you will protect me?” asked Bilbo.  
  
Thorin nodded solemnly.  
  
“You still have to sneak past the dragon as agreed but we will protect you, throughout the journey and after,” said he.  
  
“Right,” said Bilbo, “But you see, protecting is much easier if the one protected knows how to protect himself...”  
  
“True. And your point is?”  
  
“I would like it if one of you teaches me how to fight properly,”  
  
Thorin didn’t answer, he just stared at him with an unreadable expression. Bilbo felt a flush start to creep in.  
  
“It’s not that Fili and Kili were bad teachers. It’s just that half of the time they were jesting and the other half they were arguing which one of them was correct. And Bofur did not know much about sword fighting...”  
  
 _Oh dear I’m babbling,_ thought Bilbo.   
  
Bilbo was mortified. He hadn’t babbled since he was in his tweens for babbling wasn’t a proper behavior for a Baggins, or so his father had said.  
  
“Fine, I will teach you,” said Thorin.  
  
“What?”  
  
Bilbo wasn’t sure he heard Thorin correctly. Did the dwarf just say that _he_ would teach Bilbo? Bilbo thought he would, at best, ask Dwalin or Gloin to teach him and refuse flatly at worst, saying something like ‘ _We don’t have time’_ or worse.  
  
“I said I will teach you, Mis- _Bilbo,”_ Thorin repeated, “In fact we can start now if you wish.”  
  
“No, not now,” said Bilbo, “At least wait until lunch is over, I need a full meal after this before I can do anything...”  
  
It had been such a whirlwind of a day and it was not even midday yet. Bilbo would need a hearty lunch before he could function again. A few cups of tea would not be amiss either.  
  
“After lunch, then,” said Thorin curtly as he rose from his seat.  
  
Bilbo gave him a small nod. Thorin looked at him for a moment as if he was pondering something.  
  
“And Bilbo?” he added.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I’ve seen many great Kings and you are no less than any of them. I’m sorry that I doubted you.”  
  
And Thorin smiled at him. Not the half smile or the sneer that Bilbo was used to seeing. Thorin’s eyes narrowed, soft crinkles forming around them, his lips stretched as their corner tugged upwards showing dimples on his cheeks, making him looked a decade younger. Bilbo silently thanked the Valar that he was sitting, for he felt his knees go weak as his heart skipped a beat.  
  
“It’s okay,” squeaked Bilbo.  
  
Thorin gave him a small nod and turned to go, leaving Bilbo staring at his back, mouth agape, feeling very dishevelled and not entirely proper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now on to the next chapter~


	5. Shakarel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-ed by the great [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com/)!  
> Do check out her tumblr if you have time~ ;D

Lunch was a merry affair and the company dug in with their usual fervour. They were served by Beorn’s queer ponies and dogs that could stand on their hind legs and carry things with their forelegs, but Beorn himself was nowhere in sight and neither was Gandalf.  
  
For the first time in his life, Bilbo found that he did not have much of an appetite. He absent-mindedly took a bowl of vegetable stew and a cup of tea with honey and cream and started to eat, barely noticing what he was eating. He was lost in his thoughts when Ori shyly came to him and asked,  
  
“Um... Mister Baggins... Are you sure you want to eat that?” as he pointed at his bowl.  
  
Bilbo looked down to his bowl, surprised at what he saw there. He was sure that the stew was not brown and _creamy_ when he took it. He lifted his cup of tea to have a sip only to find it was already empty. Bilbo sighed, he must have taken up his cup earlier but instead of taking a gulp he had poured it into his stew.  He stared at it for a moment, then pushed his bowl away; he was not hungry anymore anyway.  
  
“Yeah I thought so too...” said Ori.  
  
Bilbo murmured his thanks to Ori and left the table. He went to his little straw mattress and took his sword from beside it. He pondered for a while, feeling the blade’s weight in his hands. Well he did _ask_ for this and he would see it through. So he tightened his grip on the sword and went to the garden.  
  
Bilbo found the garden unoccupied and quiet but for the odd rustle of leaves and the chirps of birds. The summer sun was high in the sky, illuminating the flowers with its bright rays. Bilbo noticed how the garden reminded him of bright summer at Hobbiton but at the same time very different as he had never seen half of these flowers before.    
  
Bilbo unsheathed his sword. He let the blade glimmer in sunlight as aggravating thoughts came rushing back in his mind.  
  
 _“I’ve seen many great Kings and you are no less than any of them.”_  
  
Bilbo gave his sword an experimental swing. He wondered what Thorin had meant by that.   
  
_Does it mean that Thorin acknowledged me as a King? Or Thorin sees me as a great King?_   
  
In any way, it seemed that Thorin held him in much higher regard now than he had at the beginning of their journey.  
  
 _“I’m sorry that I doubted you.”_  
  
Bilbo shifted his feet into a perpendicular position, remembering Fili’s instruction, and held his sword out slightly above his navel with the tip pointed upwards. Bilbo thrust the sword to the air with force.   
  
_Have I earned Thorin’s trust? Is it because of what I’ve done? Or just because now Thorin knows that I am the leader of my people?_  
  
Bilbo took a passing step and brought his sword down, angled towards the ground and slightly back to the side of his rear foot. He took another step and sliced the air in front of him while question after question plagued his mind with no answers in sight. He felt unsure and he did not like it, mostly because he was not sure what he felt unsure about.  
  
Bilbo raised his sword beside his ear with the point dipping forward in a steep angle. He thrust down as if he was stabbing his conflicted feelings.  
  
And then there was that _smile._ The smile that had been replaying inside Bilbo’s mind for a couple of hours now, making him more and more flustered.  
  
Bilbo grunted in frustration and swung his sword in a one swift movement as he turned around with a pivoting step. His sword clashed with something and there stood Thorin Oakenshield in all his majestic glory, stopping his small blade with Orcist’s flat.  
  
Bilbo gasped and almost dropped his sword in surprise, his mind going _thankfully_ silent. Thorin wore his usual stern expression, his perfect stance standing in sharp contrast to Bilbo’s awkward one.  
  
“I see my nephews have taught you some of the basics,” remarked Thorin.  
  
Bilbo nodded and lowered his sword, prompting Thorin to do the same.  
  
“Though there is still much room for improvement,” continued Thorin.  
  
Bilbo nodded again because it was a fact that he was painfully aware of and also the reason he asked for someone to teach him properly.  
  
“Before we start, you should be aware that I will be harsh and strict. Do you still wish to proceed?” said Thorin as he sheathed his sword.  
  
“Yes,” Bilbo breathed out in relief.  
  
Thorin quirked an eyebrow and shot him a questioning look but Bilbo didn’t care. He had dreaded the prolonged interactions that undoubtedly would come with the training sessions. Bilbo would not know what to do if Thorin suddenly became nice, or warm, or even worse, _gentle._  
  
 _Harsh and strict is good,_ thought Bilbo as he braced himself mentally, _I can work with harsh and strict._  
  
“Fine,” said Thorin, “Let’s get started.”  
  
Thorin instructed him to take the beginning stance and moved through the basic steps and their variations. Thorin would demonstrate the movement first and Bilbo would try to copy it with varying degree of success. Then Thorin would correct his movement, sometimes tapping Bilbo’s legs into the correct position and have Bilbo repeat it until Thorin deemed it satisfactory. All while Bilbo held his sword in the short guard.  
  
They continued like that until the sun went down and Bilbo was flushed and drenched with sweat. Thorin, who did not look any worse for wear, called it a day after Bilbo managed to make a perfect turning step. Bilbo sheathed his sword and flopped down to sit on the grass, resting his aching legs.  
  
Bilbo found the whole exercise relaxing somehow. He rubbed at a spot on his calf where Thorin had tapped him several times. The steps needed to be done with precision and concentration leaving no room for wandering thoughts and Thorin was neither as strict nor harsh as Bilbo expected. Bilbo was raised under a strict Baggins’ hand and a harsh Took’s hand, after all.  
  
“Did I hit you too hard?” asked Thorin as he sat down beside Bilbo.  
  
“No,” Bilbo stopped his hand, “I’m fine.”  
  
Thorin gave him a slight nod and eyed his sword thoughtfully.  
  
“Have you considered a name for your sword?” asked he.  
  
“I think I might name it _Maegnas,_ the sharp point,” answered Bilbo  
  
“Why an Elven name?”  
  
“It’s an Elven blade, it seemed fitting,” said Bilbo  
  
“But it has slain a Dwarven foe,” Thorin retorted.  
  
“Are you proposing a Dwarven name for my blade?” asked Bilbo.  
  
“I might,” Thorin shrugged.  
  
“Then you have to help me with it,” said Bilbo, “I know near to nothing about your language, Mister Dwarf.”  
  
Bilbo was half jesting of course. He knew that Khuzdul was a secret that the dwarves held close. Almost no one out of their race knew the language beside the cries heard in battlefields.  
  
“The sharp point...” Thorin pondered, “We have a good word for that in Khuzdul, _Shakarel,_ It means the sharp of sharp or the sting.”  
  
Bilbo looked up to Thorin in surprise. Thorin looked collected, very much unlike someone who just shared a word of their closest guarded secret with someone who is barely more than a _stranger._  
  
“I’ll consider it...” said Bilbo.  
  
Thorin nodded, “We should head back. It’s almost time for supper.”  
  
With that Thorin stood and walked back to the Hall. Bilbo stared at his back for a moment before following suit.  
  
Bilbo changed his clothes and cleaned himself before he joined the others for supper. When he arrived he saw that Gandalf was there, finishing a loaf of bread and taking a second with masses of honey, butter, and clotted cream. The dwarves were sitting impatiently as if willing the Wizard to eat faster.  
  
Bilbo took a loaf of bread for himself and sat down to eat. Gandalf finally finished his mead and pulled out his pipe. He lit it and started to smoke, sending smoke-rings dodging round the pillars of the hall, changing them into all sorts of different shapes and colours, and setting them at last chasing one another out the hole in the roof.  
  
“I went to Roshgobel to visit my kinsman, Radagast the Brown,” said Gandalf at last, “The issue he brought up earlier when we met him turned out to be more dire than I expected.”  
  
Gandalf took a deep whiff on his pipe and blew out another smoke ring,  
  
“So I have to part with you tomorrow to attend the issue with him.”  
  
The dwarves were very dismayed at this news, they had hoped Gandalf was going to come all the way and would always be there to help them out of difficulties.  
  
"I always meant to see you all safe over the mountains," said the wizard, "and now by good management and good luck I have done it. Indeed we are now a good deal further east than I ever meant to come with you for, after all, this is not my adventure.”  
  
The dwarves groaned in despair but they did not try to change the wizard’s mind. They knew wizards had important matters to attend from time to time and cared not for gold or silver or jewels. After the others settled down, Thorin asked,  
  
“What about the whereabouts of our host?”  
  
"There are many bear-tracks outside," answered Gandalf, "There must have been a regular bears' meeting outside here last night. I realized quickly that Beorn could not have made them all: there are far too many of them, and they are of various sizes too.”  
  
“The footprints continued to the west over the river, to the Mountains. I think they went to the direction of the pine-woods on the east side of the Misty Mountains, where we had our pleasant little party with the Defiler the night before last,” concluded Gandalf.  
  
“He went orc hunting?” asked Gloin in disbelief.  
  
“He must be!” said Dwalin, “You said he hated orcs and wargs!” he added to Gandalf.  
  
“So I did,” said Gandalf.  
  
“What if he was defeated? The footprints will lead the orcs and wargs here!” exclaimed Bofur.  
  
“We shall all be caught and killed!” said Dori.  
  
“He is much older and more powerful than you know,” Gandalf assured them, “All of you should rest. It is likely that you too will ride out tomorrow.”  
  
Thorin expressed his  approval and off the dwarves went to bed. Bilbo also went to bed, as there seemed nothing else he could do. He fell asleep as a soft music from a harp echoed inside the hall. Next morning they were all wakened by Beorn himself.  
  
"So here you all are still!" he exclaimed with a rumbling laugh.  
  
He picked up Bilbo and poked his (now mended) waistcoat most disrespectfully. Bilbo swore he heard a growl from one of the dwarves, and though he couldn’t see who was it from up here it sounded a lot like Thorin.  
  
"Little bunny is getting nice and fat again on bread and honey," chuckled Beorn, "Come and have some more!"  
  
Beorn put Bilbo down when they reached the dining table and they all went to breakfast with him. They did not have to wonder long where he had been or why he was so nice to them, for he told them himself.   
  
He had been over the river and right back up into the mountains. From the burned cliff side he had found out that part of their story was true. Then he caught a warg and an orc wandering in the woods, still hunting for the dwarves, and they were fiercely angry because of the death of the Great Goblin and the Pale Orc.  
  
"It was a good story, that of yours. But I like it still better now I am sure it is true!” said Beorn with great amusement, “I shall think more kindly of dwarves after this! And hobbits, too!”   
  
Beorn was so pleased that he provided them with a pony for each of them, a horse for Gandalf, food that would last for weeks with care, and most importantly many sound advices about the dangers of Mirkwood and the path they should take.   
  
“Killed the Great Goblin, killed the Pale Orc!" he chuckled fiercely to himself from time to time.  
  
The company thanked him and they rode out after midday. It was a day's ride from there to the edge of Mirkwood. The next day when they arrived at the tree line, they dismounted, unpacked the ponies, and distributed the packages as fairly as possible. They sent the ponies back as Beorn asked. The package was heavy on Bilbo’s back but he kept his mouth shut for he knew he was given a lighter load due to his small stature.  
  
Gandalf said goodbye and trotted off along the edge of the forest. The company refilled their water skeins at a clear spring they found near the forest gate. They each shouldered the heavy pack and the water-skin which was their share and marched into the shadows of Mirkwood with Gandalf’s parting words firm in their minds:  
  
 _“Do not leave the path!”_


	6. In the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beaten by [ Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com/) with her beta-stick.

They walked in single file. The path itself was narrow and wound in and out among the trunks. Soon the light at the gate was just a little bright spot far behind, and the quiet was so deep that their feet seemed to thump along while all the trees leaned over them and listened. Occasionally, a slender beam of sun that had the luck to slip in through some opening in the leaves far above, and still more luck in not being caught in the tangled boughs and matted twigs beneath, stabbed down thin and bright before them. But this was seldom, and it soon ceased altogether.

The nastiest things they saw were the cobwebs, dark dense cobwebs with threads extraordinarily thick, often stretched from tree to tree, or tangled in the lower branches on either side of them. There were none stretched across the path, but whether because some magic kept it clear or for what other reason they could not guess.

It was not long before they grew to hate the forest as heartily as they had hated the tunnels of the goblins, and it seemed to offer even less hope of any ending. The nights were the worst. It then became pitch-dark, so black that you really could see nothing. The only thing they could see were gleaming eyes in the darkness around them.

To Bilbo’s growing anxiety, they did not have the time or chance to continue with his sword training, it was too dark at night and they had to get as far as possible on the track at day. So he tread along with the others in darkness with a sword that he didn’t quite know how to use, feeling not safe at all.

But from time to time, Thorin would have him march right behind him. Bilbo could feel warmth radiating from his fur covered back, reminding him of home and _safety._ This made Bilbo long for his home but at the same time made him long to walk nearer to Thorin. As he felt that both were impossible, Bilbo silently kept walking, savoring whatever warmth he could get from a safe distance.

Days followed days, and still the forest seemed just the same. The food began to get low even though they were extremely careful with their provisions. Kili managed to shoot a squirrel down, but when they cooked it, it tasted horrible and gave them all a bellyache. They were thirsty too, for they did not have much water, and in all the time they had seen neither spring nor stream.

This was their state when one day they found their path blocked by running water. It flowed fast and strong but not very wide, cutting right across the path. The thin river was black and a foul feeling radiated from it. Beorn had warned them not to touch any water that they might encounter inside the forest and they started to see why. But they also had no means to cross the water without coming into contact with the stream.

Bilbo stared at the blurred outline of the far bank wishfully as some of the others moaned in despair. He was traced the banks with his eyes when he noticed there was an odd curve to one part of the silhouette. Bilbo narrowed his eyes, the curve looked a lot like the mast of a small boat.

“There’s a boat!” Bilbo pointed out into the gloom, “There’s a small boat on the far bank!”

The dwarves hurriedly gathered on the bank near him and glared at the spot Bilbo was pointing to. Kili, with his sharp eyes, was the first one who saw it.

“There is a boat indeed!” he shouted gleefully.

Some of the others saw it as well  and the others that did not trusted the eyes of the ones that did. So, they fastened a large iron hook to their longest rope and had Fili threw it to the boat. The boat was hooked after two tries and they were all soon on the far bank safe across the enchanted stream.

Thorin looked most relieved, as all of them had crossed safely without any incident. He praised Fili for his good throw, and also Kili, Oin, and Gloin for pulling each load of dwarves across the stream. Lastly he turned to Bilbo.

“Good eye, Bilbo, for spotting the boat!” said he as he patted him on the back.

Bilbo was strangely pleased by the comment, though he felt like a fauntling that was being praised for completing his first Lithe dance. But it made his heart lighten and the forest didn’t seem so dark anymore. So they marched again with higher spirits, lighter packs and emptier stomachs meaning they had to guard their provisions even more carefully.

About four days after the enchanted stream, they came to an area of the forest where most of the trees were beeches. They were at first inclined to be cheered by the change, for here the shadows were not so deep. Yet the light only showed them endless lines of straight grey trunks like the pillars of some huge twilight hall. Two days later, they found their path going downwards and before long they were in a valley filled almost entirely with a mighty growth of oaks and they grew weary again.

That night they ate their very last scraps and crumbs of food, so next morning when they woke the first thing they noticed was that they were still gnawingly hungry. At that moment, Balin saw a twinkle of light in the forest. They saw the light was in front of them and to the left of the path, so they headed closer to it. When at last they had drawn level with it, it seemed plain that torches and fires were burning under the trees a good way off their track.

There were many people there, elvish-looking folk, all dressed in green and brown and sitting in a great circle upon sawn sections of felled trees. There was a fire in their midst and there were torches fastened to some of the trees around. They were eating and drinking and laughing merrily. The smell of roasted meat was very enchanting and they were very hungry.

Most of the dwarves begged Thorin to let them ask for food from the elves, especially Bombur, who had not felt full since they left Beorn’s house, and Dori, who was worried sick about his littlest brother Ori. Bilbo understood Thorin’s hesitation, for those were the very same elves that turned their back to them decades ago.

Then he saw Thorin look at his nephews and Bilbo followed Thorin’s line of sight. Fili and Kili stood still, but they were obviously hungry. Throughout their journey, Bilbo had learned that young dwarves needed more sustenance than the older ones. But they did not join the pleading and, to resist the temptation, Kili held his brother’s arm so tightly that his knuckles had gone white and Fili definitely would sport an impressive bruise after this.

Thorin sighed in defeat.

“Fine, we’ll go and ask whether they are willing to share their food.”

So they walked silently so they would not spook the elves, making their way toward the circle and off the path. In their hunger, they had forgotten Gandalf’s advice to not leave the path. When they almost reached the edge of the circle, Thorin halted them.

“We can’t go all rushing forward. We should send someone to try to talk to them first.”

The company nodded and murmured their agreement.

“Someone who didn’t look threatening would be best,” said Nori while eyeing Dwalin.

Dwalin grunted in irritation but acknowledged Nori’s point.

“I suggest we send Master Baggins,” recommended Balin.

Thorin hesitated but Bilbo felt a need inside him to be useful again for the company.

“I don’t mind,” said Bilbo.

Thorin gave him a searching look; Bilbo did not know whether he found what he was searching for but finally he said,

“If you say so,” and he moved aside so Bilbo could proceed toward the circle.

Bilbo walked until he reached the very edge of the circle and took a deep breath, hesitation suddenly overcoming him. But then he felt a presence behind him.

“I hope they wouldn’t do anything nasty to you,” said Bofur as he pushed Bilbo into the circle.

Bilbo stumbled forward into the full blaze of the fire and torches. But before he could say anything, out went all the lights again bringing sudden and complete darkness. He lost consciousness as if an enchantment had been put upon him.  

When he came into consciousness, he felt something touch him.  Something like a strong sticky string was against his left hand, and when he tried to move he found that his legs were already wrapped in the same stuff, so that when he got up he fell over. He instinctively drew his sword so when the spider who was busy tying him up came at him, he was ready.

He stabbed one of its legs and while the spider retreated back in surprise, Bilbo cut the web that tangled him.

“What are you? Why do you have a sting?” the spider hissed and clacked, sending chills down Bilbo’s spine as it came at him again.

Bilbo struck it with his sword right in the eyes. Then it went mad and leaped and danced and flung out its legs in horrible jerks, until he killed it with another stroke. Bilbo was panting heavily and poked the dead spider with his sword to make sure it was really dead. He looked at his sword which was covered in black viscous liquid,

“I shall name you Sting after all,” murmured Bilbo, remembering his conversation with Thorin back at Beorn’s house.

He wiped his sword on the grass and sheathed it. He looked around but he couldn’t found any other member of the company nor any other spiders. Just ahead of him, Bilbo noticed a place of dense black shadow ahead of him, dark even for that forest, like a patch of midnight that had never been cleared away. As he drew nearer, he saw that it was made by many spider-webs one behind and over and tangled with another.

He put on his ring, just in case, though he disliked the odd feeling that he got when he was wearing it.  Creeping in closer, as silently as possible, he saw a great many spiders huge and horrible sitting in the branches above him. Standing behind a tree, he watched and listened to a group of them for some time, and then in the silence and stillness of the wood he realised that they had captured the dwarves.

One of the fat spiders ran along a rope until it came to a dozen bundles hanging in a row from a high branch. Bilbo was horrified, now that he noticed them for the first time dangling in the shadows, to see a dwarven feet sticking out of the bottoms of some of the bundles, or here and there the tip of a nose, or a bit of beard.

The spiders looked like they were about to eat the dwarves. Bilbo noticed there were many stones lying in what appeared to be a now dry little watercourse. As a boy he used to escape his lesson practise throwing stones at things, until rabbits and squirrels and even birds got out of his way as quick as lightning if they saw him stoop. He still played darts when he grew up and was fairly good at it. Bilbo remembered the rude songs that had aggravated the dwarves when they entered Rivendell and a plan formed inside his mind.

He gathered as many sharp stones as possible and when he saw a spider crawling towards the biggest and roundest bundle ( _must be Bombur_ , Bilbo thought) he threw one, smacking the spider right on the head, causing instant death. Bilbo stoned a few more spiders and soon the remaining spiders became furious and charged in his direction. That was when Bilbo dashed off to another tree and sang the most insulting song he could muster at the moment.

The spiders were enraged and followed him into the forest while Bilbo dashed between trees until he had gone as far as he dared. Then he quickly stole back to release the dwarves from their tangled mess. He was halfway done when the spiders came back and he had to fend them off while the released dwarves opened the cocoons containing the other dwarves. They worked a tad slow for there was still spider poison in their systems.

As soon as all of them were released, they found their weapons at the base of a nearby tree and fought the spiders. But they couldn’t do much, for it was dark and they were weak with hunger and poison and the spiders were many. Already, the giant arachnids were weaving their webs all around the small clearing, spanning the spaces between trees to thwart their escape. In the end, Bilbo could think of no plan except to let the dwarves in on the secret of his ring.

“I am going to disappear and lure them away,” explained Bilbo, “You must keep together and make in the opposite direction. To the way towards the place where we last saw the elf-fires."

The company was curious about how Bilbo would disappear, but the situation was dire and they all agreed with his plan, even more so after they saw him slip on his ring and disappear right in front of them. And off Bilbo went, singing rude songs and leading the spiders away while the dwarves scurried off to relative safety.

When Bilbo snuck back to where the elf-fires were, the dwarves were already there. There must have been some remaining trace of elf-magic on the ground for the spiders dared not draw near. When they saw Bilbo, the dwarves showered him with questions about the whole disappearing business. So Bilbo told them everything, from when he fell to the creature Gollum's cave, when he found the ring, the riddles game, and until he snuck out and found them again.

One by one, the dwarves slowly drifted off to slumber as Bilbo told his story, as they were still weak because of the spider’s poison. When all of them had fallen asleep, Bilbo kept watch and counted the dwarves.

“Fili and Kili,” he murmured to the two figures huddled together.

“Balin and Dwalin, that makes four,” he sighed to the bald head that rested on white beard.

“Dori, Nori, and Ori, that’s seven,” he muttered to the three figures in knitwear.

“Oin and Gloin,” he mumbled to the red and white hair that clash as they slept while sitting back to back.

“Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur, that’s twelve!” said he at last to the two figures curling around a much rounder one, feeling satisfied that everybody was here.

Then realization dawned on him. He shook Dwalin awake and demanded,

“Where is Thorin?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casual reminder that comment/review/critique/insight is love!


	7. Three Kings In a Hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-ed by [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com/) the great! =D

The dwarves woke up groggily, roused by the ruckus Bilbo made, but they quickly became alert when they realized their leader was missing. After a round of questions, it became clear that no one had seen their leader after he jumped into the middle of the second elf-fires. Bilbo felt an overwhelming sense of dread creep into his mind, for this meant that either Thorin was captured by the elves or he was eaten by the spiders.

While the company argued amongst themselves whether or not they should head back to the spider’s nest and try to find Thorin there, a sudden flash of light momentarily blinded them as many torches appeared around them, like hundreds of red stars. Out from the trees leapt Wood-elves with their bows drawn and spears ready to thrust, calling the dwarves to halt. All of the Company members were easily captured for they couldn’t put up a decent fight even if they wanted to. All except for Bilbo, who had slipped on his ring and was pushed aside by one of the dwarves.

Bilbo was surprised and bewildered but silently followed the elves and the rest of the bound and blindfolded dwarves, hoping that Thorin was with the elves as well and not in the spiders’ stomachs.  He followed them through the forest, to the bridge, and past the gate of the king. That brought them to a small and well built passage, lit with torches all along the sides. Bilbo took a deep breath, enjoying the much cleaner air around him.

They were brought before the Elvenking, and though he looked grimly at them, he told his men to unbind them, for they were ragged and weary and there was no escape through his enchanted doors for those who are brought inside. King Thranduil questioned them long and searchingly about their doings but the dwarves were as tight lipped as ever. They were surly and angry and they had not forgotten that the Elvenking had abandoned them; they may never forget.

Bilbo felt very amused throughout all of it, for it seem that _King_ Thranduil was not very skilled at questioning people. The dwarves were tired and _starving,_ questioning them should have been as easy as making a seed-cake. Bilbo almost let out a chuckle when the Elvenking sent them away in frustration and told the guards to put them in separate cells and to be given meagre food and drink until they were willing to talk.

The invisible hobbit followed the guards carefully and silently as they placed each dwarf in their cell. The halls were dimly lit so Bilbo did not worry so much about the shadow he might cast. Bilbo took note of all their twelve cells in different place of the palace. Clearly this place was not built to house so many prisoners in separate places, as some of the cells were not cells at all.  

Gloin was locked in an old broom cupboard. Bilbo knew this for he saw the elves clearing the room of some ancient looking cleaning supplies before they locked Gloin inside. Bifur was locked in a small spear closet near the kitchen and poor Ori was put in some sort of an attic. After he knew where all twelve of them were being kept, Bilbo snuck back to Balin’s cell.

“Mister Balin,” Bilbo whispered as he took of his ring after making sure no one else was there.

“Master Baggins!” said Balin, “Good to see you alive and well!”

“What do we do now?” asked Bilbo urgently.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest clue,” said Balin, “Though I was hoping we would know what happened to Thorin; the Elvenking didn’t mention him earlier.”

“Well I could sneak around and try to find out...” suggested Bilbo.

“You understand Elvish?” asked Balin.

“Conversational Sindarin, yes. The elves here have a different accent than Imladris elves but I still understand what they say, more or less,” Bilbo explained.

Balin looked fairly impressed,

“If that is so then please do, Master Baggins,” said he.

“Do you have any message to the others?”

“Just tell them not to lose heart.”

Bilbo nodded then his stomach growled, and he realized that he was very hungry. Balin chuckled at the sound while Bilbo felt a little embarrassed.

“Here laddie, you can share with me,” said Balin offering his untouched plate.

It was not much, but it was more that what they had eaten on the few last days before their supplies ran out. But Bilbo knew that Balin must also be very hungry and he didn’t have the heart to eat his share,

“It’s alright, Mister Balin, I’ll just sneak to the kitchen,” said Bilbo even though he was not sure he could manage to poach anything from the elves.

“If you say so,” said Balin, “Stay safe, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo put on his ring and left Balin’s cell. He wandered for a while before he realized that he had no idea where the kitchen was. But Bilbo Baggins was quite a lucky hobbit for an elf holding a jug and a plate passed him. Bilbo followed him silently and the elf did lead him to the kitchen. There was another elf, who seemed to be the cook, inside the large room. Bilbo snuck into the pantry and took a loaf of bread as he listened in to their conversation.

“ _Han mauya annoes nin Ai’ atar,”_ said the elf with the jug.

Bilbo recognized some of the words, _annoes_ -give food and _Ai’atar-_ little father which was what the elves called the dwarves. It was likely that this elf was the one that responsible for feeding the dwarves.

 _“Ma pen?”_ asked the cook.

 _“I min gador-dad,”_ answered the other.

_Gador-dad, prison-below, a dungeon?_

Bilbo perked at the mention for none of the others were locked in a dungeon, it could very well be Thorin that the elves were talking about. Bilbo quickly finished his bread, he wasn’t full yet but there might not be another chance, and followed the elf whose jug was now full of water and plate was filled with bread and some meat.

He walked silently behind as the elf went down two flights of stairs, the halls becoming darker and darker as they went deeper down, into the eerily silence of the underground chambers. Finally they reached a heavy oak door. Bilbo stayed back as the elf unlocked the door, went in, and replaced the jug and plate in his hands with empty ones. Throughout the process, the prisoner inside didn’t say anything and Bilbo couldn’t see who was inside for he dared not get too near; thus, Bilbo couldn’t be sure who was inside.

But the elf had clearly said a dwarf, so who else could it be? Bilbo decided to risk it and went to the door after the elf left and the echoes of his steps were no longer heard.

“Thorin! Is that you?” Bilbo whispered to the keyhole.

There was no answer.

“Thorin?” Bilbo tried again.

“My ears hadn’t deceived me,” came the answer from inside, “Is that really you, Bilbo?”

Bilbo felt his knees go weak with relief for he could not mistake who that voice belonged to.

“Yes! I’m so glad that you are here!” cried Bilbo, “We thought you were eaten by the spiders!”

“Spiders? What spiders?” asked Thorin, for he was captured after he fell asleep under the elven enchantment when he stepped in the second elf-fires (much like Bilbo, other than Bilbo was captured by a spider and not the elves) and thus knew nothing of the giant spiders.

So Bilbo sat down, leaned his back on the door, and told Thorin about how they were captured by giant spiders, how they escaped but only to be captured again by the elves. As Bilbo recounted the story, he became more and more aware of Thorin’s presence behind the door, and his heart started to beat faster. When he finished his story Thorin said,

“You saved them, Bilbo. Thank you.”

His voice was soft like a low rumble of the wind, coloured with relief and endearment. Bilbo felt his face flush and his heart was so loud he could hear it in his ears.

“Y-you’re welcome,” said Bilbo, willing himself to calm down.

Silence reigned upon them, stretched on like the woods, and Bilbo felt his heart was impossibly loud.

“Is there any message you want to send to the others?” asked Bilbo when he couldn’t bear the awkward silence anymore.

Thorin hummed in answer and then said,

“Please tell them that I am safe and not to reveal anything about our journey.”

“Understood,” said Bilbo.

“And also that we need to find a way to escape from here,” added Thorin.

“Is there anything else?” asked Bilbo as he stood up and got ready to leave.

“Just one more thing,” said Thorin, “Will you come back?”

Bilbo froze like a goat before a troll. His breath caught as he forced a small “Yes” out of his mouth. And he all but ran away from the door, up the two flights of stairs, and found a small dark corner where he sat down, knees to his chest, trying to rein his erratic breathing. He calmed down a tad, not much but he could think a little more clearly.

 _What was that?_ thought Bilbo. His mind repeated the events that had happened in the dungeon, the moment that he and Thorin shared. Bilbo felt warmth blooming inside him and found himself smiling fondly.

_Oh no._

He froze, the smile on his face contorting into exasperation. He shook his head as hard as possible, as if he could shake the feeling out of his mind if he tried hard enough. He hugged his knees and rested his head on them as he thought,

 _This can’t be happening_.


	8. Out of The Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com/).

As Bilbo snuck around the palace to deliver Thorin’s message to the dwarves, he became more and more resigned that _it_ had happened, and there was nothing he could do about _it_. Bilbo tried to ignore _it_ at first and focused on his task at hand.

Balin was very much delighted that Thorin was alive and well. Dwalin agreed vehemently that they should not tell the elves anything.  Gloin cried in despair that they could never escape from this place. Oin couldn’t seem to hear him at all and after he tried to talk as loud as he dared, he gave up and called it a day for it was already very late. 

The next day Bilbo found that he couldn’t ignore _it_ as everything reminded him of Thorin. Bilbo saw him in Fili’s eyes as he worriedly asked about his brother and asked Bilbo to pass a message to him. He felt his hand when Nori patted him on his back through the bars as he gave Bilbo some tips for sneaking around. He recognized Thorin’s smile in Kili’s when he brought him not only his uncle’s message but his brother’s as well. He even heard Thorin’s voice slightly when Bifur answered him in rumbling Khuzdul from inside the closet.

As the night fell, Bilbo snuck into the empty kitchen and stole some food. After he ate, he wandered around to find a dark and remote place to rest. As he wandered, lost in his own thoughts, his feet brought him down the two flights of stairs to the heavy oak door.

Bilbo stopped right in front of it, holding in his sigh as he didn’t want to alert Thorin of his presence. He pressed his ear to the door and could hear a slight rustling and footsteps from inside. That night, Bilbo slept in front of the door with his ear pressed to it, letting the slight noises lull him to slumber, invisible and alone. 

The next morning, he was woken up by the footsteps echoing towards the dungeon. He quickly got up and hid himself in a dark corner. As soon as the elf was inside Thorin’s cell, Bilbo snuck back upstairs and went to the attic where Ori was being kept. Luckily the door had no lock but just a latch so Bilbo slowly undid the latch and snuck in, leaving the door slightly ajar so he would not be locked inside. Ori let out a strangled yelp when Bilbo took off his ring and appeared from the thin air.

“Mister Baggins, you ruined my sketch!” said Ori.

“Never mind that,” said Bilbo, “I have a message from Thorin.”

So Bilbo told him the message. Ori listened carefully as he twirled the charcoal in his hand unconsciously. Bilbo watched as Ori made a complicated twirl and an idea struck him.

“Ori, can you write out the message so I can show it to Oin?” asked Bilbo.

But of course Ori could do it, he was an aspiring scholar after all. So Bilbo left the attic with a small note tucked in his pocket. He carefully put the latch back as they agreed that it was better not to raise any suspicion for the meantime. He passed the note to Oin, then assured Dori that his brothers were perfectly fine, then promised Bombur he would try to sneak some more food for him, and lastly he went to Bofur’s cell. Bofur listened to the message then he took one good look at him and queried,

“What troubles your mind, Bilbo?”

Bilbo gaped at him in surprise

“Is it really obvious?” asked he.

“Not really,” said Bofur, “I just have a good eye for things like that.”

Bilbo nodded but he didn’t answer. Bofur was a dear friend, but his predicament felt too personal to be shared comfortably.  And as if Bofur could read his mind, he said,

“It’s fine if you can’t tell. Maybe I could tell you a story to ease you mind?” Bofur offered.

Bilbo shook his head and Bofur hummed knowingly. They sat in companionable silence for some time and Bilbo started to feel silly for mulling about _it_ but Bofur gave him a pat on the back and gave him a supportive smile. At last, he left Bofur’s cell, went back to the kitchen to steal dinner, and waited for the elf that would bring Thorin’s food.

“ _Ha sí?”_ the elf asked as he came in the kitchen.

“ _Né,”_ answered the cook shortly as he gave the jug and plate to the elf.

“ _Hannad,”_ the elf grumbled as he carried them out.

Bilbo followed him again but this time he followed the elf inside Thorin’s cell. It was a medium sized room, as big as his bedroom in Bag End. It was very bare and lit with two torches. He snuck into a dark corner and waited until the elf had left and locked the door behind him before he took off his ring.

“Bilbo Baggins!” exclaimed Thorin. “It’s good to see you.”

Bilbo smiled nervously in reply.

“Have you got any news?” asked Thori.

Bilbo didn’t know much beside for the fact that the meals were given twice a day, once at dusk and once at dawn, other than that they mostly left them alone. But when he told Thorin, the dwarf king looked a little relieved for the dungeon was very deep and dark, and Thorin had lost track of time; now he had a means to keep track of its passing.

“You might as well stay here at night then,” said Thorin after a while, “No one ever comes down here other than to deliver the meals. We could continue with your...training.”

His mouth agreed with Thorin’s suggestion before his mind caught up with the repercussions. But even if it had, Bilbo wasn’t sure that he would have declined. On one hand, night after night locked in a room with Thorin, while on the other hand, night after night locked in a room with Thorin.

They quickly fell into a routine where Bilbo would sneak around gathering information or passing messages to the other dwarves during the day, then sneak back into Thorin’s cell to train and rest during the night. Thorin wanted him to practice sparring but they couldn’t spar with only one sword, so Bilbo had to make do with stance, guard, and striking drills.

After a week or two of this sneaking sort of life he got to know his way around the palace very well and he held his sword with much greater ease. He also was a great deal calmer, for Thorin didn’t seem to feel or act any differently towards him, so _it_ could not go anywhere.

In the meantime, Bilbo did learn a few useful facts: for instance there was one door that was not secured with magic, a trap door that led into the Forest River that flowed to the Long Lake. The elves used it to dispose of empty barrels. Also, the elves would have a feast in the forest in a few days time, leaving the palace almost empty. Based on those facts, Bilbo and Thorin hatched a plan.

They would sneak out when the elves were out partying and hide inside empty barrels until the elves came the next morning and dropped them through the trapdoor. They would ride inside the barrels until they reached Laketown, where the barrels would be refilled.

“But who’s going to pack in the last one?” asked Thorin.

“I won’t be packed inside,” said Bilbo, “I will keep the ring on and cling to a barrel. We need someone to let all of you out when we reached Laketown anyway.”

There was also the problem of rendering the remaining guards unconscious. Dwalin was more than happy to show him some places that he thought could render an elf unconscious if hit hard enough. With the details and precision of his description, Bilbo started to suspect that he had done this before. More useful help came from Nori, who had a bottle of sleeping draught with him.

“One drop for men, three drops for dwarves, so I say around one third of a bottle for elves,” instructed Nori when he gave it to Bilbo.

Bilbo took the bottle gingerly and decided that didn’t want to know why Nori knew such things or even how he had the draught in the first place.

The night before the feast, Bilbo was so nervous he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his corner, trying to rid his mind of the images of hundreds of ways their plan could go wrong.

“Are you cold?” asked Thorin.

“No, not really,” Bilbo answered skittishly, “I’m fine.”

But a heavy fur coat was draped over him.

“Sleep, we’ll need our strength tomorrow,” said Thorin as he stalked back to his own corner.

Bilbo tugged the coat closer to his body and took a deep breath. It smelled musty and had a tang of sweat but it calmed him down all the same. Bilbo quickly nodded off, dreaming of strong hands and warm embrace.

The next morning he was woken up by Thorin himself. He heard echoing footsteps in the hall outside and realized that he had slept in. He quickly got up and tidied himself, making sure that his sword was on his belt and the sleeping draught was in his pocket. He gave Thorin his coat back and thanked him. Right as Bilbo was about to put on his ring, Thorin said,

“Bilbo...I was wondering...”

“Yes?” Bilbo looked at the dwarf curiously.

“Would you consider staying in Erebor after all this?”

Bilbo felt the calm that he had painstakingly gained these past two weeks fly out the window. He wanted to choke Thorin for his bad timing but the footsteps were getting closer and he could hear the key turning inside the lock so he muttered his answer and quickly put on the ring. The elf came in and looked around suspiciously.

“Who are you talking to?” asked the elf, “I’m sure I heard more than one voice!”

“Nobody in particular,” answered Thorin without missing a beat, “Or to be more accurate, myself.”

The elf looked at Thorin as if he had lost his mind but he didn’t pursue with further questioning. He muttered something that Bilbo was sure translated into ‘crazy dwarf’ and changed the plate and jug, and did not noticed Bilbo slip out.

The first thing he did that day was visit Fili’s cell. He followed the elf who was bringing food for the dwarves closely and as soon as the elf went away, Bilbo pulled off his ring and stared at the young dwarf through the bars with a very serious expression.

“What does it means, when a dwarf asks you to stay at Erebor after all this?”

Fili’s face lit up with excitement.

“Uncle asked you that? Finally!” said he.

“I didn’t say... What do you mean by ‘finally’?” spluttered Bilbo.

“That’s not important,” Fili shrugged off his question, “What did you say?”

Bilbo froze at the question before answered with a soft voice,

“I said that I would, if I had a reason to stay.”

“Really? You would?” asked Fili in surprise.

“He didn’t ask me if I _could,”_ said Bilbo

Uncomfortable silence befell them.

“I should go,” said Bilbo and he put on his ring and left before Fili could say anything else.

Before he got too far Bilbo cursed for he hadn’t told Fili that the plan was going to happen that night. He considered going back but decided against it. So he went around to inform the others and saved Fili for last. When he was at last back in front of Fili’s cell, he quickly passed the information and, thankfully, Fili said nothing about their earlier exchange.

As the sun went down, Bilbo watched as the evening meal be taken to the prisoners. The elves rode out for an autumn feast, leaving only the head guard and a young elf with yellow hair in the palace. The chief guard stood guard near the cellar while the young elf stood guard near the attic where Ori was kept.

Bilbo crept in slowly and tipped one third of the sleeping draught into the head guard’s jug. The guard took a few mouthfuls and very soon the chief guard’s head bobbed up and down sleepily. He fought to stay awake for a short time, but laid his head on the table and fell fast asleep. When the hobbit tried to do the same to the young elf, a loud sound startled him and he poured what was left inside the bottle in the elf’s jug. Bilbo hid himself quickly behind a shadow and watched as the elf drank his water and dropped down in an instant.

Bilbo approached the elf warily, wondering if he had put in too much. But the elf was still breathing and though he would sport a bump on his head after he woke up, he looked otherwisely fine. So Bilbo left him on the floor and went on to his task.

He hurriedly freed the dwarves and led them to the cellar, where barrels were already standing in rows in the middle of the floor waiting to be pushed off. They quickly found thirteen with room enough for a dwarf in each. In fact, some were too roomy, and as they climbed in the dwarves thought anxiously of the shaking and the bumping they would have to endure inside the casks. Bilbo did his best to find straw and other stuff to pack them in as cosily as could be managed in a short time.

Dawn was nearing and only a minute or two after Balin's lid had been fitted on came the sound of voices and the flicker of torch lights. The guards had arrived to roll the barrels down the trapdoor. And so they did, one by one, the guards seemed to be still under the influence of the festivity’s wine for they didn’t notice that the barrels were heavier than they should be. Bilbo caught hold of the last barrel and was pushed over the edge with it. Down into the water he fell, into the cold dark water with the barrel on top of him. And off they floated away from the shadows of Mirkwood.


	9. Lake and Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I would like to apologize, 7 months is a long time between updates. But now that i have (finally) graduated from college I will try my best to update this story somewhat regularly.
> 
> Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> As always beta-ed by the loveliest [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com)!

The ride was arduous and the river was rough. Bilbo managed to keep his head above the water but the water made the barrel slippery so Bilbo clung to his barrel as tight as he could for he feared he might lose his grip every time the rapids jarred and tossed him around. He watched as the sun rose up in the sky and he got colder and colder even though it was a bright sunny day. By the time the sun started to go down, Bilbo was shivering and his hand had cramped around his grip. When night fell, Bilbo saw there were people on the look-out on the banks. They quickly prodded and pushed all the barrels together into the shallows and, after counting them, they roped them together and left them there until the morning.

He stiffly released his grip from his barrel and waded ashore; a man stood guard over the barrels so Bilbo couldn’t release the dwarves. Bilbo scuttled closer to the man’s fire. Luckily, it was dark so the guard didn’t noticed Bilbo’s weak shadow or the dark wet patch that was growing around where the hobbit sat. He was hungry but he dared not go into the huts that he saw for he surely would leave some wet trails and footprints and he didn’t want to leave the dwarves. So he slept lightly that night, partly because he was cold, another part because he was hungry and because he feared he might be found out.

Morning came in a blanket of soft grey light, and there was a merry racket down by the river. The people were making up a raft of the barrels, and the elves would soon steer it off down the stream to Lake-town. Bilbo’s clothes had dried overnight but he felt stiff and chilled all over. There was no space on the make-shift raft where Bilbo could stand without being trampled, so he waded back into the cold water with determination and clung to the rope that tied the barrels together.

The ride was much smoother than before and the rope turned out to be a better grip but the water was just as cold. Poor Bilbo was chilled to the bone and shaking badly. Luckily the rush of water hid the sound of his teeth clacking. Still, his arms and shoulders were very sore and only by willpower and sense of preservation did Bilbo managed to keep his grip and his head above the water as another day passed.

It was dark when they reached the Laketown. True to it’s name, it was not built on the shore but right out on the surface of the lake, protected from the swirl of the entering river by a promontory of rock which formed a calm bay. The night had fallen and the elves of the raft and the boatmen went to feast in Laketown. This meant Bilbo had to release the dwarves now for soon men would come up from the South and take some of the casks away, and others they would fill with goods they had brought to be taken back up the stream to the Wood-elves' home.

Bilbo’s head was pounding and he was very cold. He stumbled on his every other step as he cut loose a barrel and pushed it to the shore.  Out came Thorin when he opened the top; he was dry but he tripped out of his barrel to the shore because his limbs were numb after the prolonged time in the cramped barrel. He lied groaning on the shore as feeling came back to them and his limbs felt like they were poked by thousands of pins and needles.

“Help me! We have to be quick,” said Bilbo, or so he thought he said. What actually came out of his mouth was a slurred mumble.

Thorin looked at him with concern while still sitting on the muddy beach, rubbing life back into his feet. It would be a while until Thorin would be any help, so Bilbo left him and got back to work, cutting loose another barrel while his head felt like a scrambled egg and his breath was getting ragged.

Out came Kili when he opened it, more or less smiling with only a little stiffness in his limbs.

Kili recovered much faster than Thorin, who was still groaning on the ground, and by the time Bilbo released the next barrel (which happen to contain Fili) he was on his feet and helping his brother out of the barrel. Fili was not much worse for wear than Kili, with only an additional bruise or two.  

Bilbo was about to go and release another barrel when he tripped on his own feet and landed on his bum. The ground on the shore was soft, cushioning his fall. Thorin, who had finally recovered, got up and said,

“Rest for a while, Bilbo. We will release the others.”

Bilbo nodded but the movement made his head dizzy. He blinked hard to get his vision cleared and saw Thorin talk to his nephews, and soon the three of them waded through the shallow water, knocking and calling the dwarves’ names to find the right barrels to release.

He watched as Balin stumbled out and cracked his joints and Dwalin rubbed on a bump on his forehead. Gloin and Oin were less knocked about but a little water had leaked in their barrels so now they were trying their best to dry their clothes. Bofur turned out to be seasick and he puked out whatever was left in his stomach as soon as he was out of his barrel. Bifur was perfectly fine and was fast asleep when they opened his barrel.

His vision starting to blur again, Bilbo closed his eyes and scrunched his face, willing the blur to go away. When he opened his eyes again, Dori, Nori, and Ori were sitting on the shore slapping their arms and rubbing their legs while the other dwarves were trying to help Bombur get unstuck from his barrel.

 _I should get up and help them_ , thought Bilbo.

So he did. But suddenly, the world tilted around him and he fell down again, this time on his face. The damp mud was cold on his cheek and it felt so nice. The dwarves shouldn’t be too angry if he closed his eyes for a while. Just a little while and he would get up and help them.  As Bilbo drifted off, he could hear an exclamation from the dwarves.

_Has something happened? I should get up and see..._

But his eyelids felt like they were made from lead and his body refused to move at his will. Then he felt something heavy and warm draped around him, there was some shuffling, and he was floating in a warm cocoon.  He felt a rush of cold wind on his face.

_Am I flying? No one ever told me that hobbits could fly! Maybe Mum just forgot, like how she always forgot to tell Father where I’ve been when I snuck out to see Gandalf’s fireworks._

Suddenly they came to a halt, he was no longer flying but he thought he was still floating. He hoped he would not suddenly drop down. He heard some clattering and people shouting, though he could barely hear what they were saying through the thick fog inside his head.

“....in peace...your arms...” said an unfamiliar voice.

“...have none...your master...worn...injured...” said another rumbling voice, a familiar one.

 _That’s not true!_ He had two arms and they were perfectly fine, the trolls didn’t rip them off. He must move them and tell Thorin that so the shouting would stop for it was hurting his head. Bilbo tried as he might but only managed to shuffle a little and whimper. At that, the cocoon around him tightened and the disagreement stopped. Bilbo hummed and curled himself tighter inside the cocoon; it seemed he had somehow managed to put his argument across.

They were moving again and he was flying again! Bilbo started to think that maybe the flying had something to do with the dwarves. Thorin would look very awesome if he could fly, his coat would go all swishy behind him. Bilbo wanted to giggle at the image of Thorin flying with his coat fluttering behind him like a great cape but when he opened his mouth the air was cold on his dry throat and he fell into a coughing fit.

His cocoon burst and he was dropped down onto a soft surface. Then there were hands, big and calloused, starting to take off his clothes. Bilbo tried to struggle because he _liked_ his clothes and he just fixed that waistcoat! But the hands were strong and unyielding, and the familiar rumbling voice hushed him.

“...wet...chest cold...” was all Bilbo could make out.

 _Of course my chest is cold now_ , thought Bilbo. But a warm sheet was pulled up and covered him from his toes to his cheeks. The hands caressed his forehead softly, they felt cold and nice, and Bilbo quickly drifted off to sleep.

While he was sleeping, Bilbo had the oddest dream he’d ever had. He was treading down a narrow tunnel, it was dark and long but he could see a light on the end of it. When he reached the light he was faced with a giant yellow eye, framed with red scales. He tripped on a weird stone that shone like it had captured the moonlight inside it. He got up and ran for he was trying to outrun a fireball, up he ran along the tunnel again when suddenly a pair of hands grabbed him.

The hands hoisted him up in the air, threatened to throw him down. There was shouting and though Bilbo couldn’t make out the words, he could feel _hurt_ and _betrayal_ at the tones. The hands let go and he fell down. He landed in a battlefield, someone was calling for him. He was led through the devastated remnants of a battle to a tent. When he opened the tent’s door he could see nothing but darkness, and a wave of sorrow, loss, and _death_ crashed on him.

He opened his eyes and he saw a wooden ceiling. He blinked, and the ceiling was still there. He turned his head to the right and saw Thorin, who was only wearing a tunic and a pair of trousers, his mails and coat strangely absent. He was soaking something in a basin; he lifted it up and Bilbo saw that it was a napkin. The dream he had before was already lost from his mind. Thorin pressed the water out from the napkin and folded it, then turned to Bilbo.

“Go back to sleep,” said Thorin as he put the napkin on Bilbo’s forehead.

 _What a nice dream_ , thought Bilbo as he did as told and fell into a dreamless sleep this time.

When he woke up, he was very confused. The last thing he remembered clearly was Bombur getting stuck in his barrel and his head pounding as if someone took a hammer and hit it from the inside. Right now, his head didn’t hurt and he was inside a wooden room. The ceiling was very high unlike the one in Bag-End. The bed was also much larger than he was used to.

He looked around and the size of the furniture confirmed his suspicion that he was in a room built for men. This meant they had arrived safely in Laketown. He also saw a figure sitting beside his bed, his head resting on folded arms that lay on the edge of Bilbo’s bed. _Thorin_ was only wearing a tunic and a pair of trousers and was snoring lightly, his dark mane tied up in a ponytail and his braids spread on the bed.

Bilbo noticed that his throat was parched and realized that he was very thirsty. He could see a water basin on top of the drawers beside his bed but he couldn’t find a jug or a cup in sight. He was about to wake Thorin up when the door opened.

“Ah Master Baggins, you’re awake!” said Balin quietly as he closed the door behind him.

Bilbo nodded and eyed the water jug in Balin’s hand hopefully. And as if he could read his mind, Balin poured out a cup and handed it to him.

“Here, you must be thirsty.”

"Thag you very buch," said Bilbo with a raspy voice.

He sipped the water slowly and cleared his throat.

“How long?” he asked.

“Two nights have passed since we were released from our barrels and it’s almost noon today,” answered Balin.

Bilbo nodded and took another sip.

“Are we in Laketown?”

“Aye, we had a very warm welcome and a large house was given to our company,” explained Balin.

“And...” Bilbo glanced to the dwarf that was still sleeping at his bedside, “Thorin?”

“Thorin has hardly left your side since we arrived here,” Balin smiled. “He helped Oin nurse you through your fever.”

Bilbo looked at the sleeping dwarf fondly, his hand moving to touch him while the other hand still held his cup. He touched Thorin’s braids’ ends and caressed them between his fingers gently, feeling the coarse hairs rubbing against each other.

 _This isn’t fair_ , thought Bilbo, _how could I pretend that I felt nothing when you are so kind?_

“I see that his feelings are returned,” said Balin simply.

Bilbo retracted his hand as if he touched a hot surface. He turned to Balin and opened his mouth to retort but the sudden intake of breath sent him into a coughing fit. Balin quickly rushed to his side, took the cup from his hand, and patted his back. The commotion woke Thorin; Bilbo saw him watching him as his cough receded into wheezes.

“You’re awake,” said Thorin.

Bilbo just nodded, unable to say anything for he was still wheezing.

“How are you feeling?” asked Thorin.

“Better,” Bilbo panted, “Tired but better.”

Thorin nodded.

“Rest. I’ll call for Oin.”

And he left the room. Bilbo watched his back as he caught his breath until the door closed and it was no longer visible. Balin watched him and from his face he could tell that the old dwarf was _excited_.

“He cares for you a great deal, Master Baggins. But I’m afraid his pride would hinder him from making the first move,” said Balin as he shot Bilbo a meaningful look with a glint of teasing in his eyes.

Bilbo sighed in despair; how come the dwarves thought this was _exciting_ and _amusing_? It was not, it was suffocating and hopeless and they should know exactly why. But Balin still nursed a small smile on his lips and it grated Bilbo’s nerves badly. There was an angry light in Bilbo’s eyes and his kindly face grew hard.

“Are you saying that I should make the first move?” asked Bilbo calmly. “That I should tell him? And condemn both of us to a life pining for each other from the opposite ends of Middle Earth, never to move on?”

Bilbo watched as all trace of amusement left Balin’s face, replaced by weariness and resignation.

“It was already like that for Thorin, for, us dwarves only love once and never again.”

Now Bilbo felt slightly guilty, but was it so wrong to want to have the possibilities of loving someone else and moving on for himself? _But how likely would that be, with you knowing someone you love this much will continue to love you and only you?_ his mind supplied very unhelpfully.

“And I always think that both of you will find a way,” continued Balin, “Maybe you could stay in Erebor--”

“If we came out of this journey alive, I _have_ to go back to the Shire,” Bilbo cut him off, “You of all people should know that, Mister Balin...”

Before Balin could say anything else, the door opened. In came Thorin, carrying a teapot and a cup, and Oin, bringing a satchel of assorted medicines and medical supplies. Oin quickly came to his bedside, checking his pulse and temperature and other things while Thorin stood back and exchange looks with Balin.

“Don’t just stand there, laddie,” scolded Oin, pulling out his brand-new ear trumpet, “Come and give Mister Baggins his tea!”

Thorin just nodded. He poured the tea into a cup and handed it to Bilbo. Bilbo took a sip and almost spit it out again.

“What is this?”

“My original concoction,” said Oin, “Fenugreek, ginger, turmeric, and pepper!” 

Bilbo eyed the cup warily and, against his better judgement, he took another sip. It still tasted as bad as before.

“Do I really have to?”

“Aye,” said Oin, “It is good to prevent a chest cold!”

Bilbo took a deep breath and finished his cup in a single gulp. He coughed and choked after that and soon he was snorting snots and coughing out phlegm. Thorin watched him like a hawk while Oin tutted approvingly.  Oin took out a jar of salve that smelled like garlic and turpentine and instructed him to rub it on his chest. The concoction was vile and the salve was foul but they worked like a charm, Bilbo recovered quickly: in a few days he was right as rain.

On the days when he was recovering and confined to the bed, Thorin would come with Oin as he did his checkups and watch Bilbo closely. He would ask a question or two and then leave with Oin again. Bilbo was confused but he was mostly relieved that he didn’t have to have awkward conversations with the dwarf.

They stayed for a fortnight in Laketown and Thorin seemed to avoid being alone with him at any cost. He would excuse himself to talk to the town’s Master or another member of the company. So Bilbo was left with Balin’s words getting heavier in his mind, eliciting turmoil inside him.

They left Laketown in three large boats, laden with rowers and many provisions. In two days’ span, they rowed right up the Long Lake and passed out into the River Running. Now they could all see the Lonely Mountain towering grim and eerily vast before them. The peak was hidden in the clouds and its foot spanned wide. The air was dour and silence reigned, broken by no bird or sound except that of the wind in the crannies of stone. It was a wearying journey, and a quiet and stealthy one. Bilbo knew that they were drawing near to the end of their quest, and that it might be a very horrible end.

 _Soon I have to face the dragon_ , thought Bilbo.

That should be enough to distract him from his internal turmoil.


	10. Conflicted Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks to the lovely [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com/).

 

They reached the skirts of the Mountain without meeting any danger or any sign of the Dragon other than the barren wilderness he had made about his lair. The Mountain lay dark and silent before them and ever higher above them.

 

Thorin sent out a scouting expedition to spy out the land to the South where the Front Gate stood. For this purpose, he chose Dwalin, Fili, and Kili. Bilbo went with them, for he wanted to put some distance between himself and Thorin.

 

They marched to the foot of Ravenhill; from there they could see into the wide valley shadowed by the Mountain's arms, the grey ruins of ancient houses, towers, and walls scattered on the barren land.

 

"That is all that is left of Dale," said Dwalin, "The valley used to be covered with green on the mountain's sides and at its heart the town was bright and rich."

 

Bilbo looked at the burnt remnants of the town, picturing its look once upon a time. Then he longed for the Shire. It was just past mid-Autumn, the trees would be bright with colours, the farmers would be preparing their land for the winter, the marsh would be covered with thick fog, and the markets would be full of pumpkins and mushrooms, Bilbo could even smell the fresh earthy smells from the stalls. Oh how he loved the Shire! And how proud was he to be its leader!

 

They strode along the riverbank to the south until they reached a great rock. Peering past the rock, they could see a cavernous opening between the arms of the Mountain. There was a watergate and through the lower bars water ran, but they also could see steam and dark smoke emitting ominously.

 

The valley was eerily silent and nothing moved in the waste. All four of the scouting party shuddered, and Dwalin decided that there were nothing else they could do over there and they should head back to camp.

 

On the way back, Bilbo took one last look at the ruins of Dale and made up his mind. He would help the dwarves as promised. Then he would return to the Shire, to his people, to his _home,_ and Thorin would become the leader of another ally for the Shire. That and nothing more and it _had_ to be enough.

 

Bilbo’s face set in grim anticipation: he couldn’t deny what he felt for Thorin therefore this would be _hard_. But he will do it for he is the Baggins and a good Baggins will endure any hardship for the welfare of hobbitfolk. The Shire came first and would always come before any personal _whim_ Bilbo might have at the moment and he should stop looking for any loophole that might exist _right now_.

 

Thorin was waiting for them when they reached the camp. Bilbo felt his chest constrict at the sight of the dwarven King, already his mind racing for excuses that may let him be together with Thorin. Bilbo shooed the thought away, repeating his resolution like a mantra inside his head. He could do this, he _must_ do this.

 

Bilbo stayed back as Dwalin immediately reported their findings and they discussed its possible meaning. They agreed that the dragon was still alive and guarding its hoard and that it was wise to approach the mountain from another direction rather than the front door. Thorin eyed Bilbo worriedly as he listened carefully to the other dwarf. Bilbo tried to smile reassuringly but it came out akin to a grimace.

 

When the discussion was over, Bilbo hurriedly went away to help the others pack but Thorin called after him.

 

“Bilbo, are you alright? Are you still unwell?”

 

Bilbo took a deep breath.

 

_I will not act on my feelings. The Shire is and will always be my first priority._

 

He repeated that in his head three more times before he answered.

 

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”

 

“If you’re feeling up to it, I was wondering if you wanted to continue your sword training. We haven’t tried sparring,” said Thorin.

 

_I will not act on my feelings._

 

“Can’t Dwalin or somebody else spar with me?” asked Bilbo.

 

“They can, but none of them had the grasp of swordsmanship and your ability as well as me. Or are you saying that I’ve been a bad teacher?” asked Thorin hotly, his eyes narrowed.

 

_The Shire is and will always be my first priority._

 

“I did not mean it like that. I was thinking that you had spared enough of your time for my training,” Bilbo answered smoothly.

 

“My time is free for me to use as how I see it fit. And I see it fit to fulfil my promise to teach you how to use your sword,” said Thorin, “So your answer is?”

 

“If that is the case then...” Bilbo hesitated

 

_I will not act on my feelings. The Shire is and will always be..._

 

“I would really like that.”

 

_Oh darn it._

 

“I’ll see you this afternoon after we move our camp, then,” said Thorin.

 

_Twice over._

 

Bilbo nodded and went to pack his belongings. He could feel Thorin’s eyes boring into his back and he tried his best to ignore him.  It had been decided that they would move the camp to one of the Lonely Mountain’s western spurs. They moved quickly and settled their new camp before sundown.

 

After Bilbo finished unpacking, he took his sword and headed to the clearing eastward from their camp. All the way there Bilbo convinced himself that he needed the training and he definitely _did not_ accept Thorin’s offer just to spend more time with him. When Bilbo arrived at the clearing, Thorin was already there and he was doing a series of drills with a sword given to him by the men.

 

Bilbo was mesmerized. It was a familiar drill, one of the drills that Thorin had taught him, but in Thorin’s hand the movements looked sharp and strong, twisting and turning like a rapid current. It was a pity that they couldn’t retrieve their weapons from the elves. Bilbo wondered how amazing would it look if Thorin was using Orcist. Thorin saw Bilbo and lowered the sword; he gestured for Bilbo to come closer and Bilbo did.

 

“We’ll warm up with several drills,” Thorin instructed, “I’ll be joining you because I need to get used to this sword.”

 

Thorin pulled the first stance. Bilbo unsheathed Sting and followed his stance.

 

“We’ll start with the second stance and guards drill,” said Thorin.

 

Bilbo nodded and they moved together in a rhythm. Step after step, stance after stance, and guard after guard. They breathed in sync as movements flowed through their bodies. They went on like that for another drill and another drill until Bilbo felt sweat forming on his back.

 

“Very good,” said Thorin when they finished their drills.

 

Bilbo thanked him and watched him closely for further instruction. His breath was slightly ragged and his heart was racing. Being so close to Thorin and so in tune with him felt so _right._ Bilbo wanted more, he wanted so much more even though he knew he couldn’t, even though he promised himself he wouldn’t.

 

“Now for the sparring, first you will come to me with all you have and we will work from there,” Thorin instructed.

 

Bilbo sheathed his sword and prepared to do just that. It would be a good way to vent his frustration without fearing he would inflict any damage.

 

“Why did you sheath your sword?” asked Thorin.

 

“Aren’t we going to spar?” Bilbo asked back.

 

“Aye, and therefore, why did you sheath your sword?” asked Thorin again.

 

Bilbo frowned. Thorin wanted them to spar with unsheathed sword?

 

“But one of us might get hurt,” Bilbo voiced out his concern.

 

“The weight and balance of a sword differs greatly whether it is sheathed or not. Also, I won’t let that happen,” said Thorin. “Don’t you trust me?”

 

Bilbo felt his breath catch. Thorin’s blue eyes gazing at him, piercing and demanding, and Bilbo couldn’t find a reason not to trust this dwarf with his well being, with his life, with everything. So Bilbo unsheathed his sword again and settled into the stance he was most comfortable with.

 

“I do,” said Bilbo, looking straight into Thorin’s eyes.

 

“Remember your strikes and guards drill. Do not hesitate.” Thorin raised his sword and held his gaze. “Ready?”

 

Bilbo nodded.

 

“Go.”

 

And they clashed. Thorin blocked his first strike with ease, sending vibrations down the length of both of their swords. Bilbo was startled by the force but quickly brushed it off and swung his sword for another strike which Thorin blocked effectively too. Bilbo continued to make blow after blow, looking for an opening but failing to find it. Thorin blocked his blows with a calculating look and finally he deflected one particularly vicious blow to his chest and said,

 

“Defend yourself.”

 

And he started to attack. Bilbo was overwhelmed. Thorin came on strong and fast and Bilbo didn’t have time to _think,_ he just instinctively pulled defensive guard after guard.  But Bilbo felt Thorin relent a little whenever he started to feel too overwhelmed then continue as soon as Bilbo composed himself a little.

 

They continued for a while and Bilbo started to fall into a rhythm when Thorin suddenly struck hard and close. Bilbo barely had time to block it and Thorin was so close to him. He could feel the dwarf’s breath hot on his face as blue eyes trained on him mere inches from his own. Bilbo staggered back, his sword still raised, and eyed Thorin warily.

 

Bilbo felt like a startled animal and felt the urge to dash away far from Thorin. But Thorin lowered his sword and straighten his back. The urge to flight subsided and Bilbo lowered his sword too.

 

“You used the strikes and guards effectively,” said Thorin. “But still lack in agility and strength.”

 

“Thank you,” said Bilbo.

 

There wasn’t much he could do about strength but he definitely could improve his agility. The sun was almost down and the clearing was bathed in golden light, illuminating Thorin’s profile. Bilbo felt a twinge inside him and a treacherous thought crept up inside his mind.

 

_If we’re going to part either way, why can’t we give it a go and enjoy it while it lasts?_

 

Bilbo shooed the thought away for it was selfish and unfair to Thorin. Bilbo also wasn’t sure he could let go when the time came.

 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Thorin’s voice broke him out of his reverie. “Shall we continue tomorrow?”

 

“Yes,” answered Bilbo.

 

They headed back to camp together, walking much closer than necessary. Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat every time Thorin’s arm brushed his shoulder. He wanted to pull away but at the same time he wanted to draw closer. Bilbo ignored Balin’s knowing look when they reached the camp and took his serving of dinner from Bombur. He sat near Bofur and Ori and let his thoughts drift while the dwarves' chattering washed over him.

 

For days, they toiled in parties searching for paths up the mountainside and in the afternoons Bilbo would come to the clearing to train. The training would always start with drills and after that Thorin would spar with him. Sometimes Thorin would pause the fight to correct him or advise him to make some moves more effective and then they would resume.

 

To Bilbo’s relief they were not always alone. Sometimes Balin and Dwalin or Fili and Kili would join them in the drills and the others would also spar on the clearing around them. But when they were alone it always felt very intense and _intimate_ to Bilbo and it frayed his resolution fast. Bilbo realized he was fighting a losing battle with himself and hoped they would find the door soon and so put an end to his training.

 

Finally, Bombur found the path to the secret door unexpectedly one day. He was gathering herbs for dinner when he found a bunch of crocus growing not too high on the mountainside. Bombur was excited: he had heard rumours about the delicacy of saffron made from Erebor’s crocus. There was a slope not too far from the bunch and Bombur tread it carefully, but when he reach out to pick the flowers he slipped and landed on (and broke) some rough steps going upwards.

 

The others were excited and they followed those weathered steps with high spirits. The dwarves found traces of a narrow track, often lost, often rediscovered, that wandered on to the top of the southern ridge and brought them at last to a still narrower ledge, which turned north across the face of the Mountain. Looking down they saw that they were at the top of the cliff at the valley's head and were gazing down on to their own camp below.

 

Silently, clinging to the rocky wall on their right, they went in single file along the ledge, until the wall opened and they turned into a little steep-walled bay, grassy-floored, still and quiet. The entrance was hidden from below because of the overhang of the cliff and unseen from afar because of it small size. It was not a cave for it was open to the sky above; but at its inner end a flat wall rose up that, at the lower part, was as smooth and upright as a master mason's work, but without a joint or crevice to be seen.

 

The company was sure that they had found the door but they could not find a way to open it. It was the beginning of the first week of autumn and the sun began to sink. When they were about to give up, Bilbo heard a sharp crack behind him. There on the grey stone in the grass was an enormous thrush. _Crack!_ It had caught a snail and was knocking it on the stone. _Crack! Crack!_

 

Bilbo watched the grey stone curiously as the sun sank lower and lower. It sank into a belt of reddened cloud and disappeared. The little moon was rising from the horizon. Evening was coming on. Then, suddenly, a red ray of the sun escaped like a finger through a rent in the cloud. A gleam of light came straight through the opening into the bay and fell on the smooth rock-face.

 

The old thrush, who had been watching from a high perch with beady eyes and head cocked on one side, gave a sudden trill. There was a crack. A flake of rock split from the wall and fell, leaving a keyhole about three feet from the ground.

 

"Thorin!” cried Bilbo, “Where’s the key?”

 

Thorin hurried up and held the key to Bilbo questioningly. Bilbo pointed to the keyhole and urged,

 

“Hurry! Try it now while there is still time!"

 

Thorin stepped up and drew the key on its chain from round his neck. He put it to the hole. It fit and it turned! Snap! The gleam went out, the sun sank, the moon was gone, and evening sprang into the sky. The door swung open slowly without being pushed; it seemed as if darkness flowed out like a thick vapour from the hole in the mountain-side, and deep darkness in which nothing could be seen lay before their eyes. The mouth of the tunnel led in and down.

 

Bilbo eyed the darkness warily. It was time to hold his end of the contract.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that I have not been able to establish an update schedule. But updates ARE COMING.
> 
> As usual, comments/critics/squees/boos are love!


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